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diff --git a/36503-h/36503-h.htm b/36503-h/36503-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65be7b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/36503-h/36503-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10178 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Man's Hearth, by Eleanor M. Ingram. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man's Hearth, by Eleanor M. Ingram + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man's Hearth + +Author: Eleanor M. Ingram + +Illustrator: Edmund Frederick + +Release Date: June 23, 2011 [EBook #36503] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN'S HEARTH *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Susan Skinner 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.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 333px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>A MAN'S HEARTH</h1> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/col01.jpg" width="342" height="500" alt="ELSIE FELT THE GLANCE PASS ACROSS HER AND REST ON ANTHONY + +Page 223" title="" /> +<span class="caption">ELSIE FELT THE GLANCE PASS ACROSS HER AND REST ON ANTHONY +<br /> +<span style="text-align: right"><i><a href="#Page_223">Page 223</a></i></span></span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 323px;"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" width="323" height="500" alt="title-page" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1 style="margin-bottom: 2em;">A MAN'S HEARTH</h1> + +<h2 style="margin-bottom: 2em;"><span style="font-size: 75%;">BY</span><br /> + +ELEANOR M. INGRAM</h2> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 4em;">AUTHOR OF<br /> +"FROM THE CAB BEHIND," "THE UNAFRAID," ETC.</p> + +<p class="center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY<br /> +<span style="font-size: large;">EDMUND FREDERICK</span></p> + + +<p class="center">PHILADELPHIA & LONDON<br /> +J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br /> +1915 +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p class='center'>COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> + +<p class='center'>PUBLISHED OCTOBER 1915</p> + +<p class='center'>PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br /> +AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS<br /> +PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER</td><td align="right" colspan="2">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tony Adriance——"Millions, You Know!"</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">His Neighbor's Wife</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Girl Outside</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Woman Who Grasped</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Little Red House</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Woman Who Gave</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Daring Adventure</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Andy of the Motor-Trucks</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Luck in the House</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Masterson Takes Tea</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Glowing Hearth</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Upper Trail</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">What Tony Built</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cabaret Dancer</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Other Man's Road</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Guitar of Alenya of the Sea</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Russian Mike and Maître Raoul Galvez</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Challenge</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Adriances</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cornerstone</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right" colspan="2">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Elsie felt the Glance pass across Her and Rest on Anthony</td><td align="right"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">There Would Have Been no more Bedtime Romps for +Masterson and His Son</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Winter was Hard and Long, but Never Dull to Them</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">{9}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_MANS_HEARTH" id="A_MANS_HEARTH"></a>A MAN'S HEARTH</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tony Adriance—"Millions, You Know!"</span></h2> + + +<p>The man who had taken shelter in the stone +pavilion hesitated before taking a place on the +curved bench before him. He had the air of +awaiting some sign of welcome or dismissal from +the seat's occupant; receiving none, he sat down +and turned his gaze toward the broad Drive, +where people were scattering before the sudden +flurry of rain. It suggested spring rather +than autumn, this shower that had swept out of +a wind-blown cloud and was already passing.</p> + +<p>After a moment he drew a cigar-case from +his pocket, then paused. Obviously, he was not +familiar with the etiquette of the public parks, +with their freedom and lack of formalities. He +was beside a woman—a girl. He had no wish +to be inconsiderate, yet, to speak—in suspicious, +sardonic New York—that was to invite misconstruction, +or a flirtation. Still——</p> + +<p>"May I smoke?" he suddenly and brusquely +shot his question.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">{10}</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl turned towards him. Her eyes were +as gray as the rain; heavily shadowed by their +lashes, their expression had a misted aloofness +suggesting thoughts hastily recalled from remote +distances. He realized that he might have +come, smoked, and gone without drawing her +notice any more than a blowing leaf. She was +not a beauty, but he liked the clearing frankness +of the glance with which she judged him, +and judged aright. He liked it, too, that she did +not smile, and that her steadfast regard showed +neither invitation nor hostility.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered. "Please do."</p> + +<p>The form of her reply seemed to him peculiarly +gracious and unexpected, as if she gave +with both hands instead of doling out the merely +necessary. He never had known a woman who +gave; they always took, in his experience. Unconsciously +he lifted his hat in acknowledgment +of the tone rather than the permission. That +was all, of course. She returned to her study of +river and sky, while he drew out his cigar. But +afterward he looked at her, unobtrusively.</p> + +<p>She was dressed altogether in black, but not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">{11}</a></span> +the black of mourning, he judged. The costume, +plain but not shabby, conventional without being +up-to-date, touched him with a vague sense +of familiarity, yet escaped recognition. It +should have told him something of her, but it +did not, except that she had not much money for +frocks. He was only slightly interested; he +might not have glanced her way again if he +had not been struck by her rapt absorption in +the sunset panorama before them. She had gone +back to that place of thought from which his +speech had called her; withdrawn from all +around her as one who goes into a secret room +and closes a door against the world. And she +looked happy, or at least serenely at peace with +her dreams. The man sighed with envious impatience, +striving to follow her gaze and share +the enchantment.</p> + +<p>The enchantment was not for him. The brief +storm had left tumbled masses of purple cloud +hanging in the deep-rose tinted sky, in airy +mockery and imitation of the purplish wall of +the Palisades standing knee-deep in the rosy +waters of the Hudson. Along the crest of the +great rock walls lights blossomed like flowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> +through the violet mist, at the walls' base half-seen +buildings flashed with lighted windows. He +saw that it was all very pretty, but he had seen +it so a hundred times without especial emotion.</p> + +<p>His cigar was finished, yet the girl had not +once moved. Abruptly, as before, he spoke to +her, as he moved to leave.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking at?" he demanded. +"Oh, I'm not trying to be impertinent—I would +like to know what you see worth while? You +have not moved for half an hour. I wish you +could show me something worth that."</p> + +<p>Again she turned and considered him with +grave attention. His tired young face bore the +scrutiny; she answered him.</p> + +<p>"I am seeing all the things I have not got."</p> + +<p>"Over there?"</p> + +<p>She yielded his lack of imagination.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; over there. Don't you know it +is always Faeryland—the place over there?"</p> + +<p>"It is only Jersey—?"</p> + +<p>She corrected him.</p> + +<p>"The place out of reach. The place between +which and ourselves flows a river, or rises a cliff. +One can imagine anything to be there. See that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> +grim, unreal castle, there in the shadows, its +windows all gleaming with light from within. +Well, it is a factory where they make soap-powder, +but from here I can see Fair Rosamond +leaning from its arched windows, if I choose, or +armored and plumed knights riding into its +gates."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Disappointment made the exclamation +listless. "Story-making, you were? I am +afraid I can't see that way, thank you; I haven't +the head for it."</p> + +<p>For the first time she smiled, with a warm +lighting of her rain-gray eyes and a Madonna-like +protectiveness of expression. He felt as +distinct an impression as if she had laid her +hand on his arm with an actual touch of +sympathy.</p> + +<p>"But I do not see that way, either," she explained. +"That was an illustration. I mean +that one can make pictures there of all the <i>real</i> +things that are not real for one's self; at least, +not yet real. It is a game to play, I suppose, +while one waits."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand."</p> + +<p>She made a gesture of resignation, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">{14}</a></span> +mute. He comprehended that confidence would +go no farther.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he accepted the rebuke. "It +was good of you to put up with my curiosity +and—not to misunderstand my speaking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! I hate to misunderstand, ever; it is +so stupid."</p> + +<p>Although he had risen, he did not go at once. +The evening colors faded, first from river, then +from sky. With autumn's suddenness, dusk +swept down. Playing children, groups of young +people and promenaders passed by the little +pavilion in a gay current; automobiles multiplied +with the homing hour of the city. New York +thought of dining, simply or superbly, as +might be.</p> + +<p>The silent tête-à-tête in the pavilion was +broken by the softest sound in the world—a +baby's drowsy, gurgling chuckle of awakening. +Instantly the girl in black started from revery, +and then the man first noticed that a white-and-gold +baby carriage stood at her end of the +curved seat. Astonished, incredulous, he saw +her throw back miniature coverlets of frost-white +eiderdown and bend over the little face,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">{15}</a></span> +pink as a hollyhock, nestled there. For the first +time in his life he witnessed the pretty byplay of +the nursery—dropped kisses, the answering +pats of chubby, useless hands, love-words and +replying baby speech, inarticulate, adorable.</p> + +<p>The scene struck deeply into inner places of +thought he had never known lay at the back of +consciousness. He never had thought very profoundly, +until the last few weeks. And even yet +he was struggling, turning in a mental circle of +doubt, rather than thinking. The girl and the +child flung open a door through which he +glimpsed strange vistas, startling in their forbidden +possibilities. He stood watching, dumb, +until she turned to him. Her face was kindled +and laughing; she looked infinitely candid and +good. But—she looked maid, not mother. +Somehow he felt that.</p> + +<p>"You are married?" he questioned, almost +roughly. "I did not suppose—— You are married, +then?"</p> + +<p>Into her expression swept scorn for his dulness, +compassion for his ignorance, fused by the +flaring fire of some intense feeling far beyond +his ken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">{16}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Married? No. Or I would not be here!"</p> + +<p>"Why? Where would you be?"</p> + +<p>The baby was standing upright in its coach. +The girl passed an arm about the tottering form +to steady the fat little feet, and retorted on her +questioner.</p> + +<p>"Where? Home, of course, making ready +for my man! If I lived there,"—with a gesture +toward the tall, luxurious apartment houses on +the Drive, behind them, "I would be choosing +my prettiest frock and coiling my hair the way +he liked best. If I lived there, across the river +in one of those little houses, I would be making +the house bright with lamps; wearing my +whitest apron and making the supper hot—very +hot, for there is frost in the air and he would +be cold and tired and hungry. And I would have +his chair ready and draw the curtains because +he was inside and no one else mattered." She +paused, drawing a deep breath. "That is where +I would be," she concluded, as one patiently lessoning +a dull pupil, and reseated the baby in +its coach in obvious preparation for departure.</p> + +<p>The man had stood quite still, dazed. But +when she turned away, with a bend of her dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></span> +little head by way of farewell, he roused himself +and overtook her in a stride.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said, "I mean for letting +me know anyone could feel like that. I suppose +a great many people do, only I have not met +that kind? No, never mind answering; how +should you know? But, thank you. May I—if I +see you again—may I speak to you?"</p> + +<p>She surveyed him gravely, as if with clairvoyant +ability to read a history from his face, +a face open-browed and planned for strength, by +its square outlines, but that somehow only succeeded +in being pleasant and passively agreeable. +It was the face of a man who never had +been brought against conflict or any need for +stern decision, whose true character was a sword +never yet drawn from the sheath. And now, he +was in trouble; so much lay plain to see. He was +in bitter trouble and, she guessed, alone with the +trouble.</p> + +<p>He stood in mute acceptance of her scrutiny, +recognizing her right, since he had asked so +much. Before she spoke, he knew her answer, +seeing it foreshadowed in the gray eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you wish to very much. But—not too +soon again."</p> + +<p>She stepped from the curb, allowing no reply, +but without apparent haste, pushing the carriage +in which the baby chuckled and twisted to +peep back at her. He watched her thread her +way through the rushing lines of pleasure +traffic; saw her reach the other side and disappear +behind a knoll clothed with turf and evergreens +that rose between them. The woman +from whose presence he had come to this chance +encounter once had told him that any human +being looked absurd propelling a baby-coach. +He recalled that statement now, and did not +find it true. It was such a sane thing to do, so +natural and good. At least, it seemed so when +this girl did it. He envied the man, whoever +he might be, who did, or would love her; envied +him the clean simplicity she would make of life +and the absence of hateful complications.</p> + +<p>People were glancing curiously at his motionless +figure; he aroused himself and walked on. +He had chosen his own way of living, he angrily +told himself; there was no excuse for whining if +he did not like the place where free-will had led<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> +him. Yet—had he? Or had he, instead, been +trapped? The doubt was ugly. He walked +faster to escape it, but it ran at his heels like +one of those sinister demon-animals of medieval +legend.</p> + +<p>Across the blackening river electric signs +were flashing into view; gigantic affairs insolently +shouldering themselves into the unwilling +attention, as indeed they were designed to do by +Jersey's desire for the greater city's patronage. +Looking toward one of these, the man read it +with a sullen distaste: "Adriance's Paper." +That simple announcement marked an industry, +even a monopoly, great enough to have been +subjected more than once to the futile investigations +of an uneasy government.</p> + +<p>The family name was sufficiently unusual, the +family fortune sufficiently well known to have +been bracketted together for him wherever he +had gone. In school, in college, and later, always +he had found a courier whisper running officiously +before him, "Young Adriance—paper, +you know. Millions!" And always it had led him +into trouble; at twenty-six he was just commencing +to realize that fact. The trouble never had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> +been very serious until now. He never had +committed anything his mother's church would +have called a mortal sin. Even yet he stood only +on the verge of commission. But he could not +draw back; he was like a man being inexorably +pushed into a dark place.</p> + +<p>The house toward which he turned did not +arrest the eye by any ostentatious display. In +fact, it was remarkable only for being one of the +very few houses on lower Riverside Drive which +possessed lawns and verandas. Set in a small +town, or a suburb, the gray stone villa would +have been merely "very handsome." Here, it +gained the value of an exotic. To Anthony +Adriance, junior, as he climbed the steps that +night, it seemed to stare arrogantly from its +score of blinking windows at the glittering sign +on the opposite shore. Cause and effect, they +duly acknowledge each other. The man paused +to glance at them both, then let his gaze fall to +the avenue below the terraced lawn. That way +the black-gowned girl had gone. Probably she +had turned across into the city; her dress was +hardly that of a resident of the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>The man who took his hat and coat deferentially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></span> +breathed a message. Mr. Adriance was +in the library and desired to know if his son +was dining at home.</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the prompt, even eager reply. +"Certainly, if he wishes it. Or—never mind; I +will go in, myself."</p> + +<p>The inquiry was unusual. It was not Mr. +Adriance's habit to question his son's movements. +One might have said they did not interest +him. He and "Tony" were very good +acquaintances and lived quite without friction. +He was too busy, too self-centred and ultra-modern +to desire any warmer relation. Affection +was a sentimentality never mentioned in +that household; a mutilated household, for Mrs. +Adriance had died twenty years before Tony's +majority.</p> + +<p>But it was not curiosity, rather an odd, +faintly flickering hope that lighted the younger +man's eyes as he entered the room and returned +his father's nod of greeting. The two were not +unlike, at a first glance; definitely good features: +eyes so dark that they were frequently mistaken +for black instead of blue, upright figures +that made the most of their moderate height,—these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span> +they had in common. The great difference +between them was in expression; the difference +between untempered and tempered metal. No +one would ever have nicknamed the elder Anthony +"Tony."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to dine with you," the +younger Anthony opened, at once. "I'll go +change, and be back. Were you going to try the +new Trot tonight—I think you said so?"</p> + +<p>"No. I had an hour this afternoon," Mr. +Adriance stated, picking up a pen from the table +and turning it in his fingers. He had a habit of +playing with small articles at times—to distract +his listener's attention rather than his own, said +those who knew him well. Neither to his son nor +to himself did it occur as incongruous that he +should discuss a lesson in dancing with the matter-of-fact +decision that made his speech cold and +sharp as the crackle of a step on a frost-bound +road. "It is not so difficult as the tango, though +more fatiguing. Where had you intended to +dine, tonight? At the Mastersons'?"</p> + +<p>Tony Adriance colored a slow, painful red +that burned over face and neck like a flame scar.</p> + +<p>"Fred asked me," he made difficult work of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> +the reply. "I couldn't get out of it very well, +but I am glad of an excuse to stay away. It is +early enough to 'phone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance turned the pen around.</p> + +<p>"If Masterson was to be there, you might +safely have gone," he pronounced.</p> + +<p>"If——"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Dining with Mrs. Masterson will +no longer do. Am I speaking to a full-grown man +or a boy? If Mrs. Masterson chooses to get a +divorce, and you afterward marry her, very +good. It is done; divorce is accepted among us. +But there must be no gossip concerning the +lady."</p> + +<p>"There is no cause for any," retorted the +other, but the defense lacked fire. He looked +suddenly haggard, and the shamed red scorched +still deeper. "She—isn't that kind."</p> + +<p>"No. She is very clever." He laid down the +pen and took up a book. "I was cautioning you. +Will you hurry your dressing a little? I have +an early engagement down-town this evening."</p> + +<p>The dry retort was not resented. The +younger man did not retreat, although way was +shown to him. Since the subject had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> +dragged into the open ground of speech, he had +more to say, with whatever reluctance.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to consider Fred," he +finally said.</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" Mr. Adriance looked up +perfunctorily. "Masterson is nothing to me. +You have not considered him."</p> + +<p>"I have! At least, I tried to stop this—after +I understood. I never meant——"</p> + +<p>There was a pause, during which Mr. +Adriance turned a page. The sentence was not +completed, but Tony Adriance lingered as if +in expectation of some reply to it; an expectation +half eager, half defiant. No reply was +made; finally it became evident there was to be +none.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might object." He forced a +laugh with the avowal, but his eyes denied the +lightness. "Parents do in books and plays, you +know. I thought you might tell me—— Oh, +well, to pull out of this and bring home a woman +of my own instead of some other man's woman. +It isn't very pretty!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance looked up with a certain curiosity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have a sentimental streak, Tony? I +never suspected it. Why should I object to an +affair so suitable? You have been following +Mrs. Masterson about for a year; she is altogether +charming and will make a good hostess +here—a great lack in our household. I admire +her myself, more than any débutante I ever saw. +I am very well satisfied. Suppose you had +brought home some milkmaid romance, a wife +to stumble over the rugs and defer to the servants? +No, no; manage this properly, that is +all my advice. Meanwhile, do you know it is +after seven o'clock? Unless you hurry——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll hurry," was the dry promise. +"And I am much obliged for the advice. But I +fancy a good many of us may defer to the milkmaids, +after we are dead."</p> + +<p>He swung the door shut with unnecessary +force, as he went out. While he climbed the +broad, darkly-lustrous stairs, he was aware that +his father was turning another page of the book; +and as a pendant to that picture had a mental +glimpse of Lucille Masterson, lovely, perfect in +every line of costume and tint of color, waiting +for a man who was not her husband. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span> +would the girl in black think of that, he wondered? +Yet Lucille was altogether beyond reproach. +She had every right to contemplate a +divorce, in view of Fred Masterson's undoubted +wildness and extravagance. If only she had not +discussed it with him, Tony Adriance, he thought +impatiently. If only she had announced her +intention to her husband and the world, instead +of broaching it secretly to the admirer she had +chosen for her second husband! It was horrible +to meet Masterson with this knowledge thrust +like a stone blocking the way of intercourse. +Certainly she lacked delicacy.</p> + +<p>Of course he must go on gracefully. It was +very like climbing these stairs; one step taken +implied taking the next. But he wished that he +had not met the girl in the pavilion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">His Neighbor's Wife</span></h2> + + +<p>During the next few days, Tony Adriance +several times saw the girl in black. But he did +not venture to approach or speak to her. It +was too soon; moreover, he was not altogether +certain that he wished to be with her. She was +too disturbing, too concrete an evidence of other +possibilities in life than those he had been taught. +He remembered the story of the Grecian lake +that was only muddy when stirred. Probably +those who lived within view of its waters seldom +"disturbed Comarina."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he always regarded the girl +with a keen interest he could not have explained +even to himself. He would glimpse her from his +automobile in passing, or observe her from the +opposite sidewalk as he went in or out of his +father's house. She always had the child with +her, and always wore the same frock. Usually, +she was to be found in the white stone pavilion, +established on the curved stone bench with a bit +of sewing or a book. He never had imagined so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span> +quietly monotonous a life as hers seemed to be.</p> + +<p>It was at the end of the first week after their +meeting that Adriance, riding slowly along the +bridle-path through the park, saw an itinerant +vendor of toy balloons and pinwheels wander +into the pavilion where girl and baby were +ensconced.</p> + +<p>The sunlight glittered bravely on the gaudy +colors of fluted paper wheels, the plump striped +sides of bobbing globes, and the sleepy, brown +face of the Syrian pedler who mutely presented +his wares. The girl lifted her smiling eyes to +meet the man's questioning glance, and shook her +head with a pretty gesture that somehow implied +admiration and a gay friendliness which made +her refusal more gracious than another's purchase. +The pedler smiled, also, and lingered to +hoist the straps supporting his tray into a new +position upon his bent, velveteen-clad shoulders, +before moving on his way.</p> + +<p>The baby had not been consulted. But his +attention had been none the less enchained. +Those pink and yellow things set spinning by +the fresh morning breeze, those red balloons tugging +at their cords like unwilling captives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></span> +hungry for the clear upper spaces of blue—to +see all this radiance departing was too much! +He spread wide both chubby arms and plunged +in pursuit.</p> + +<p>"Holly!" the girl cried, arresting his flight +from the coach. "Why, Holly?"</p> + +<p>Holly hurled himself into magnificent rage. +Halted by the outburst, the Syrian turned back +with an air of experienced victory.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> you buy?" he interrogated.</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head, struggling to +appease the young insurrectionist.</p> + +<p>"No, no. Please go away, and he will +forget."</p> + +<p>The man took a step away. The baby's +screams redoubled; he stamped with small, fat +feet and brandished small, fat fists.</p> + +<p>"You buy?" the pedler blandly insisted.</p> + +<p>"No!" the girl panted. "Please do go. I +cannot; I have no money with me. Holly, +dear——!"</p> + +<p>Adriance had found a boy to hold his horse, +and came up in time to overhear the last statement. +He halted the Syrian with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"I have," he made his presence known to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> +the combatants. "Won't you let me gratify a +fellowman? Here, bring those things nearer. +Which shall it be, young chap—or both?"</p> + +<p>The girl turned to him with candid relief +warming her surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed her recognition. "You +are very good. I am afraid, really afraid it +will have to be both. <i>Oh</i>——!"</p> + +<p>Holly had deliberately lunged forward and +clutched a double handful of the alluring wares.</p> + +<p>By the time calm was re-established and +the amused Adriance had paid, it seemed altogether +natural that he should take his place on +the seat beside the girl; as natural as the pedler's +placid departure. Holly lay back on his +cushions in vast content, two balloons floating +from their tethers at the foot of his coach and +a pinwheel clasped in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I should like to say that he is not often +like this," remarked the girl, gathering together +her scattered sewing, "But he likes having his +own way as much as Maît' Raoul Galvez; and +everyone knows what <i>he</i> raised."</p> + +<p>"I don't," Adriance confessed. He noticed +for the first time a softening of her words, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> +enough to be called an accent, far less a lisp, but +yet a trick of speech, unfamiliar to him. "What +did he raise?"</p> + +<p>"Satan," she gravely told him. "Maît' +Raoul knew more about voodooism and black +magic than any white man ever should. It is +said he vowed that he would have the devil up +in person to play cards with him, or never be +content on earth or under it. And he did, +although he knew well enough Satan never gambles +except for souls."</p> + +<p>"Who won?"</p> + +<p>"Satan did. Yet he lost again, for Maît' +Raoul tricked him in the contract so cleverly +that it did not bind and the soul was free. There +is a great split rock near Galvez Bayou where +they say the demon stamped in his rage so +fiercely the stone burst."</p> + +<p>"Then Maître Raoul escaped Hades, after +all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! He went there, but merely as a +point of honor. He was a gambler, but he +always paid his losses."</p> + +<p>Adriance laughed, yet winced a little, too. A +baffled, helpless bitterness darkened across his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></span> +expression, as it had done on the evening of +their first meeting. He looked down at the pavement +as if in fear of accidentally encountering +his companion's clear glance.</p> + +<p>"I never read that story," he acknowledged. +"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"I fancy it never was written," she returned. +"There is a song about it; a sleepy, creepy +song which should never be sung between midnight +and dawn."</p> + +<p>He watched her draw the thread in and out, +for a space. She was embroidering an intricate +monogram in the centre of a square of fine linen, +working with nice exactitude and daintiness.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he wondered, finally.</p> + +<p>Her glance traced the direction of his.</p> + +<p>"A net for goldfish," she replied.</p> + +<p>It was not until long afterward he understood +she had told him that she sold her work.</p> + +<p>The river glittered, breaking into creamy +furrows of foam under the ploughing traffic. +The sunshine was warm and sank through +Adriance with a lulling sense of physical pleasure +and tranquil laziness. How bright and +clean a world he seemed to view, seated here!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> +He felt a pang of longing, keen as pain, when +he thought that he might have had such content +as this as an abiding state, instead of a brief +respite. How had he come to shut himself away +from peace, all unaware? How was it that he +never had valued the colorless blessing, until it +was lost?</p> + +<p>After a while he fell to envying Maître Raoul, +who had gone to the devil honorably.</p> + +<p>A long sigh from Holly, slumbering amid his +trophies, awoke Adriance to realization that +his companion possessed the gift of being silent +gracefully. He had not spoken to her for quite +half an hour, yet she appeared neither bored nor +offended, but as if she had been engaged in following +out some pleasant theme of meditation. +A sparrow tilted and preened itself on the rail, +not a yard from her bent, dark head. Over +at the curbstone, the boy who guarded +Adriance's horse had slipped the bridle over one +arm and was playing marbles with two cheerful +comrades who made calculated allowances for +his handicap, based on his coming reward from +the rider.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am very dull," Adriance presently +offered vague apology.</p> + +<p>"Are you?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, I am not entertaining."</p> + +<p>She lifted her eyes from her sewing to regard +him with delicate raillery.</p> + +<p>"No. If you had been the entertaining sort +of person, I could never have let you talk to +me," she said. "But I think you had better go, +please, now. Two imported nursemaids in bat-wing +cloaks have been glowering at us for some +time as it is. Holly and I shall be grateful to +you a thousand years for this morning's +rescue."</p> + +<p>He rose reluctantly, with a feeling of being +ejected from the only serene spot on earth.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for letting me stay," he answered. +"You are very kind. I——"</p> + +<p>His lowered glance had encountered her +little feet, demurely crossed under the edge of +her sober skirt. They were very small, serious +shoes indeed; not a touch of the day's capricious +fancy in decoration relieved them. But what +struck to the man's heart was their brave blackness, +the blackness of polish that could not quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> +conceal that they had been mended. Of course, +he at once looked away, but the impression +remained.</p> + +<p>"I hope Holly will not imitate Maît' Raoul +any more," he finished lamely.</p> + +<p>The girl frankly turned to watch him ride +away. Her natural interest seemed to the man +more modest than any pose of indifference.</p> + +<p>But it seemed that she was appointed by +Chance to make Tony Adriance dissatisfied and +restive. It was altogether absurd, but the fanciful +legend she had told him taunted and hunted +his sullen thoughts. He took it with him to +his home, when he changed into suitable attire +to keep a luncheon engagement with Mrs. Masterson. +It still accompanied him when he entered +the great apartment house where the +Mastersons lived.</p> + +<p>He had not wanted to act as Lucille Masterson's +escort on this occasion. His attendance +had been skilfully compelled. But now he hated +the duty so much that he was dangerously near +rebellion. He hesitated on the threshold of the +building, half inclined not to enter; to go, instead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> +to a telephone and excuse himself for +desertion on some pretext.</p> + +<p>It was too late. Already the door was held +open for him by a footman whose discreetly +familiar smile Adriance saw, and resented. He +winced again when the elevator boy stopped at +the Mastersons' floor without being told, implying +the impossibility of Mr. Adriance's call being +intended for any other household. He never +had noticed these things before; now, he felt +himself disgracefully exposed before these +black men.</p> + +<p>He was altogether in a mood of bitter exasperation, +when he was ushered into Mrs. Masterson's +little drawing-room. He recognized +this condition with a vague sense of surprise at +himself underlying the dominant emotion. All +his life he had been singularly even-tempered. +Now he combated a wish to say ugly, caustic +things to the woman who had brought him here. +He did not want to see her.</p> + +<p>Yet she was very pleasant to see. Indeed, +both the scene and his hostess were charming, +as they met his view. Mrs. Masterson was +standing before a long mirror, surveying herself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> +so that Adriance saw her twice; once in +fact, and once as a reflection. Sunlight filled +the room, which was furnished and draped in +a curious shade of deep blue with a shimmering +richness of color, so that the lady's gray-clad +figure stood out in clear and precise detail. +But Mrs. Masterson could bear that strong +light, and knew it. Without turning, she smiled +into the mirror toward the man whose image she +saw there.</p> + +<p>"How do you like the last Viennese fancy, +Tony?" she composedly greeted him.</p> + +<p>Her voice was not one of her good points. +It was naturally too high-pitched and harsh, and +although by careful training she had accustomed +herself to speak with a suppressed evenness +of tone that smothered the defect to most +ears, there resulted a lack of expression +or modulation perilously near monotony. +Adriance listened now, with a fresh sense of +irritation, to the fault he only had observed recently. +Before answering, he surveyed critically +the decided lines of the costume offered +for his approval; its audacious little waistcoat +of cerise-and-black checked velvet, the diminutive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span> +hat that seemed to have alighted like a +butterfly on the shining yellow hair brushed +smoothly back from Mrs. Masterson's pink +ears, and the high-buttoned gray boots with a +silk tassel pendant at each ankle. Those exquisite +and costly boots taunted him with their +sharp contrast to those he had studied an hour +before; they spurred him on to rudeness as if +actual rowels were affixed to their little French +heels.</p> + +<p>"The skirt is too extreme," he stated perversely.</p> + +<p>"They are going to be so; this is quite a +bit in advance," she returned. "Do you like +it?"</p> + +<p>"Not so well! It makes a woman look like +a child; except for her face."</p> + +<p>Lucille Masterson's tact was often at fault +from her lack of humor. Instead of retorting +with laughter or silence, she opposed offence to +his wilfulness.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered freezingly. "I +seem to have aged rather suddenly."</p> + +<p>"You know well enough how handsome you +are," he said, a trifle ashamed. "Of course I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> +did not mean what you imply. But, after all, +we are not children, Lucille, either of us. We +are a man and a woman who are going——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"To gather a rather nasty apple!" He +forced a smile to temper the statement.</p> + +<p>She slowly turned around and regarded him.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded, lifting +her narrow, arched eyebrows. "My <i>costume +trottoir</i>, and apples——? Aren't you considerably +confused, Tony?"</p> + +<p>"Can't we at least face what we are doing?" +he countered. "If we are able to do a thing, we +ought to be able to look at it, surely. We can +put through this thing, and our friends will +think none the less of us; they are that kind. +But they are not all the people on earth, you +know. What the maid who brushes your gown +or the man who opens the door for me says of us +downstairs may come nearer the general opinion. +Perhaps we would better have considered +that. For I am afraid the majority of the white +man's world cannot be altogether wrong."</p> + +<p>There was a quality in his voice that alarmed +her. He had flung himself into a chair beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span> +her desk, and sat nervously moving back and +forth the trinkets nearest his hand. She stood +quite still, studying him before committing herself +by a reply. This was a Tony Adriance +strange to her.</p> + +<p>"It seems very cowardly, to me, to be afraid +of what people will say," she slowly answered. +"And I will not have you speak to me as if I +were a wicked woman, Tony. You know that I +am not. You know I have borne with Fred's +neglect and extravagance much longer than +other women would."</p> + +<p>He flushed dark-red at the taunt of cowardice, +but he spoke doggedly, tenacious of his purpose.</p> + +<p>"You could not give Fred another chance? +You remember, he and I were friends, once. He +has played too much with the stock market. +Well, I might get my father to help him there; +we might fix it so that he won sometimes, instead +of lost. You do not know how hard it is +for me to come into Fred's house this way."</p> + +<p>A flash of blended anger and fear crossed +Mrs. Masterson's large, light-colored eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it?" she doubted, cuttingly. "You have +been coming here for a whole year, Tony."</p> + +<p>She had found the one retort he could not +answer. Adriance opened his lips, then closed +them with a grim recognition of defeat. Who +would believe he had come here innocently? +How could he tell this beautiful and sophisticated +woman that he had been vaguely, romantically +charmed by her without ever dreaming +of any issue to the affair or of letting her suspect +his mild sentimentality? How could he +hope she would credit the tale, if he did tell +her?</p> + +<p>She had been watching his changing expression; +herself paled by a very genuine dread. +Now, suddenly she was beside him, her hands +on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Don't you love me any more, Tony? You +come in here to-day and rage at me——! Have +you taught me for months to need you and count +on you for all the future, only to leave me, +now? Oh, I believed <i>you</i> were strong and true!"</p> + +<p>A caress from her was so rare an event, so +unfamiliar a concession, that her mere nearness +fired Adriance. Her fragrant face was close to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> +his; he looked into her eyes, like jewels under +water, suffused by her terror of losing him.</p> + +<p>His kiss was her victory. Instantly she was +away from him; half across the room and sending +furtive glances toward the curtained doorways, +even toward the windows five stories +above the street. The guilt implied in the action +made it to Adriance as if a hand had struck +the kiss from his lips.</p> + +<p>"We must be careful," she cautioned. +"Suppose someone were coming in? You didn't +mean all that, Tony? You love me as much +as ever?"</p> + +<p>Adriance moved toward her.</p> + +<p>"I won't answer that in Masterson's house," +he said, his voice shaken. "Lucille, you have +got to do now what I asked you to do weeks +ago: you must leave here at once and marry me +as soon as it can be done. Since we have begun +this thing, we must carry it through as decently +as possible. And it is not decent for you to +stay here or for me to come here. If you come +with me now, to-day, I will put you with someone +who can act as chaperon until the divorce is +obtained; one of my aunts, perhaps. If you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> +do this, and help me to keep what honestly is +left, I give you my word that I never will fail +you as long as I live, come what may."</p> + +<p>She drew back from his vehemence. Assured +of herself and him, now, she permitted a frown +to tangle her fair brow in half-amused rebuke.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, what a dramatic tirade! Of +course I will come to you the first moment possible—but, +to-day? And just now you were +deprecating gossip! You must let me arrange +this affair. I am not ready to leave Fred, yet. +Do you not understand? I must wait until he +makes another one of his scenes; I must have a +fresh reason for going, not a past one already +tacitly overlooked."</p> + +<p>"You will not come?"</p> + +<p>She turned from his darkened face to the +mirror.</p> + +<p>"You really are very selfish, Tony. Pray +think a little of me instead of yourself. But I +will try to do as you wish; next month, perhaps. +I could go to Florida for the winter."</p> + +<p>Adriance sat down again beside the desk and +took a cigarette from a small lacquered tray +that stood there. He was beaten, but he was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> +submissive. He bent his head to the yoke with a +bitter, sick reluctance. Yet he understood that +it was too late to draw out. Lucille loved him; +whether intentionally or not, he had won her. +No, he must finish what he had begun.</p> + +<p>The cigarette was perfumed, and nauseated +him. He dropped it into an ash-receiver, but it +had given him a moment to steady himself. +After all, Masterson did neglect his wife. If +he could not keep his own, why should Tony +Adriance turn altruist and try to do it for +him? At least, Lucille might be happy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masterson had touched her hat into +place, surveying her vivid reflection. She was +wise enough to take her triumph casually.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go?" she questioned. "Nan +Madison hates late arrivals, you know. Do make +your man throw away that cravat you are wearing, +Tony. Gray is not your color. It makes +you look too pale; too much——"</p> + +<p>"Like Maître Raoul Galvez?" he dryly supplied, +rising.</p> + +<p>"Who was he?"</p> + +<p>"A man who raised the Devil. I am quite +ready if you wish to go."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Girl Outside</span></h2> + + +<p>Tony Adriance slipped into the habit of +pausing for a few words with the girl in black +whenever circumstances set them opposite each +other. And that was quite often, since his home +was so near the pavilion she had adopted as +her place of repose. He rather avoided his +friends, during the days following his futile +rebellion against Lucille Masterson's will, yet +he was lonely and eager to escape thought. He +could talk to the girl, he admitted to himself, +because she did not know him.</p> + +<p>They met with a casual frankness, the girl +and he, like two men who find each other congenial, +yet whose lives lie far apart. Their +brief conversations were intimate without being +inquisitively personal. She had a trick of saying +things that lingered in the memory; at least, +in his memory. Not that she was especially brilliant; +her charm was her earnestness, at once +vivid and tranquil, and the odd glamor of enchantment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> +she threw over plain commonsense, +making it no longer plain, but alluring as folly.</p> + +<p>But she continued to wear the shabby little +boots, with their optimistic bravery of blacking. +They really were respectable boots, aging, not +aged. The fault lay with Adriance, not them; +he was too much accustomed to women "whose +sandals delighted his eyes." If her feet had +been less childishly small, they might have preoccupied +him less. As it was, they preoccupied +him more and more.</p> + +<p>There is no accepted way of offering a pair +of shoes to a feminine acquaintance. Nevertheless, +in the third week of his friendship with the +girl, Adriance bought a pair of pumps for her. +He had seen them in a glass case set out before +a shop and stopped to gaze, astonished. They +were so unmistakably hers; the size, the rounded +lines, the very arch and tilt were right! They +were of shining black, with Spanish heels and +glinting buckles.</p> + +<p>He took them home with him, but of course +he dared not give them to her. He had an idea +that he might essay the venture on the last +occasion of their meeting; if she punished him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span> +with banishment, then, it would not matter. +For he meant to leave New York when Lucille +went to Florida. He would spend the necessary +interval between the divorce and his marriage, +in Canada, alone.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, there was the girl.</p> + +<p>It was on the last day of October that he +found her knitting instead of embroidering; a +web of gay scarlet across her knees.</p> + +<p>"A new suit for Holly's big Teddybear," +she explained, as he sat down opposite to her. +"Christmas is coming, you know. I like to have +all ready in advance. Don't you think the color +should become a brown-plush bear?"</p> + +<p>"It is not depressing."</p> + +<p>"It is the color of holly. And depression +is not a sensation to cultivate, is it?" She +paused to gaze across the river, already shadowed +by approaching evening. "I believe in +fighting it off with both hands; driving a spear +right through the ugly thing and holding it up +like Sir Sintram with that wriggly monster in +the old picture."</p> + +<p>"You would be a good one to be in trouble +with," he said abruptly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span></p> + +<p>She disentangled his meaning from the extremely +vague speech, and nodded serious +assent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, perhaps. I'm used to making the most +of things."</p> + +<p>"The best of them," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"Of course! The most best—why should +anyone make more worst?"</p> + +<p>They laughed together. But directly the +restless unhappiness flowed back into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"They do, though!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Then they are wrong, all wrong," she said +decidedly. "They should set themselves right +the moment they find it out."</p> + +<p>"But if they can't?" he urged, with a personal +heat and protest. "Things aren't so simple +as all that. Suppose they can't set one thing +straight without knocking over a lot of others? +You <i>cannot</i> go cutting and slashing through like +that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; you can," she contradicted, sitting +very upright, her gray eyes fired. "You +must; anyone must. It is cowardly to let things, +crooked things, grow and grow. And one could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> +not knock down anything worth while that +easily. Good things are strong."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. But she had stirred him +so that he sat silent for a while, then rather suddenly +rose to take his leave.</p> + +<p>"You never told me your name," he remarked, +looking down at her. He noticed again +how supple and deft her fingers were, and their +capable swiftness at the work.</p> + +<p>"No. Why?" she replied simply.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he accepted the rebuke. "I—beg +your pardon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly. Holly is trying to shake +hands before you go."</p> + +<p>Of course he and the baby had become +friends. He carefully yielded his forefinger to +the clutching hands, but he did not smile as +usual.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he spoke out brusquely. +"Just as an illustration that things are not as +easily kept straight as you seem to think—I +know a man who somehow got to following one +woman around. I don't think he knows quite +how. Of course, he admired her immensely, and +liked her. Well, I suppose he felt more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> +that! But he never even imagined making love +to her, because she was married. You see, he +was a fool. One day when he called, she told +him that she was going to get a divorce from +her husband. She has the right. And the man +found she expected to marry him, afterward; +she thought he had meant that all along. What +could he do? What can he do?"</p> + +<p>The baby gurgled merrily, dropping the forefinger +and yawning. The girl laid down her +work to tuck a coverlet about her charge.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she admitted, her voice +low.</p> + +<p>Adriance drew a quick breath.</p> + +<p>"That isn't all of it. The husband is the +man's friend. Why, they used to sleep together, +eat together——! And he doesn't know. Don't +you see, the man has to fail either the husband +or wife? How can you straighten that?"</p> + +<p>She looked up, to meet the unconscious self-betrayal +of his defiant, unhappy eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry for him," she answered +gravely. And, after a moment. "She must be +very clever."</p> + +<p>He started away from the suggestion with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span> +sharp resentment. Clever—that was his father's +term for Lucille Masterson; and it was hateful +to him. He would not analyze why he felt that +repugnance to hearing Lucille called clever. He +refused to consider what that implied, what ugly +depths of doubt were stirred in him to make him +wince in anger and humiliation. Suddenly he +bitterly regretted having told the story to this +girl, even under the concealed identity.</p> + +<p>"No doubt," he made a coldly vague rejoinder. +"I dare say the matter will work itself out +well enough. It is getting late; I think I must +go."</p> + +<p>It was altogether too abrupt, and he knew it. +But he could do no better. He knew the girl's +eyes followed him away, and he walked with +careful ease and nonchalance.</p> + +<p>Out of her sight, he walked more slowly. +Already the autumn twilight was settling down +like a delicate gray veil. At the foot of the Palisades, +opposite, a familiar point of light sprang +into view among the myriad lights there; a point +that ran like fire through tow, up, across, around +until the glittering words shone complete: +"Adriance's Paper."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span></p> + +<p>The name was reflected in the dark water. +Down there, it swayed weakly and its legend was +broken by the river's ripples. "You shine, up +there, but I govern here," the Hudson flung its +scorn back to the man-made arrogance. He was +like that reflection, Tony Adriance thought, with +a fancy caught from the girl's trick of imagery; +he was the mere reflection of his father's successes, +shifting, worthless, inseparable from the +gold-colored reality above, dancing and broken +on the current of a woman's will. He himself +was—nothing. He winced under the self-applied +lash. It was knotted with truth; he, personally, +never had counted. Even Lucille never had said +she loved him; she simply had taken his devotion +for granted, and used it. Would she have promised +herself to him if he had been a poor man? +Would she ever have contemplated divorce from +Masterson, with all his faults, if Tony Adriance +had not brought himself and his gilded possibilities +across her path? The questions were ugly, +and sent the blood into his face. He stopped +walking and stood by the stone wall edging the +sidewalk, facing the river.</p> + +<p>He always had resented being merely his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span> +father's heir, in a vague, unanalyzed way. Now +resentment threatened to flame into rebellion.</p> + +<p>Rebellion against what? His father, who left +him absolute freedom from any restraint? +Lucille, whom he was at perfect liberty never to +see again, if he chose to deny her assumption? +He was very completely trapped by circumstance, +since the trap was open and yet he could +not leave it.</p> + +<p>The delicate dot on the <i>i</i> of irony was that +he had loved Lucille, yet he knew he must be +miserable with her all their lives. He thought +of her even now with a certain longing, yet he +would always distrust her and detest himself. +His fingers gripped the stone edge; he felt a passionate +envy of men who were strong enough to +do insane, desperate things, to tear their own +way ruthlessly through the clinging web of other +people's ways. He fancied the girl in black to be +such a person; if she considered herself right in +any course, she would take it.</p> + +<p>But after a while he turned away and began +to walk home. He had to dress, for he was dining +with the Mastersons. It had been insisted upon, +to make amends for the night he had stayed away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> +to dine with his father. Lucille was not yet +ready for any audible whisper to suggest divorce +to the world or her husband. Tony must come +and go as usual for a few weeks more. She had +chosen to forget his appeal, after quelling his +mutiny. Mrs. Masterson was not a generous +victor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Woman Who Grasped</span></h2> + + +<p>The Mastersons' apartment had, like many +such apartments, a charming little foyer. It +was lighted by a jade-green lamp, swung in +bronze chains delicately green from the tinting +of time; and the notes of bronze and dull +jade were carried through all the furnishings, +through leather and tapestry and even a great, +dragon-clasped Chinese vase. But those greenish +lights were not always becoming to visitors. +When Tony Adriance entered the foyer that +evening they were so unbecoming to him that +the maid privately decided he was ill. Her +master not infrequently came home with that +worn look about the eyes and mouth. She wondered +if Mr. Adriance gambled.</p> + +<p>None of the other guests had arrived. Indeed, +it was not yet time. The clink of glass and +bustle of servants in the dining-room alone told +of the coming event in hospitality. Hospitality? +Tony Adriance stood still, arrested in his movement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span> +toward the drawing-room; the sick distaste +of all the last weeks finally culminated in +paralysis before the prospect of the farce he +was expected to play out, with his unconscious +host as spectator.</p> + +<p>"I—am not ready," he found himself temporizing +with the maid. His glance fell upon +a desk and prompted him. "I have forgotten +an important letter; I will write it before I go in. +Don't wait; I know my way."</p> + +<p>She obeyed him. Of course he had nothing +to write, but he fumbled for a sheet of paper and +picked up a pen. He was awake at last to the +enormity of his presence here as a guest; before +he had glimpsed it, now he saw it, stripped +naked.</p> + +<p>He could not go on. There was no reason +why the conviction should have come to him at +this moment, but it did so. As he sat there, that +knowledge rose slowly to full stature before his +vision like an actual figure reared in the path he +had been following. It was no longer a question +of Lucille's desires or his own; he could not do +this thing.</p> + +<p>He was not accustomed to intricate windings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span> +of thought, or to self-analysis. He hardly understood, +as yet, what was aroused in him, or why. +But he knew that he must act; that his time of +passive drifting was ended. Once Lucille had +reproached him with cowardice. To-day, the +girl in the pavilion had innocently brought the +charge again. And the girl was right; it was +cowardly to let a wrong grow and grow. Masterson's +friend in Masterson's house! Adriance +dropped the pen his clenching fingers had bent, +and stood up.</p> + +<p>The maid had gone back to that centre of +approaching activities, the kitchen. Alone, +Adriance went down the corridor to the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masterson was alone there, moving +some introduced chairs into less conspicuous +situations. The alien chairs were covered in +rose-color and marred the clouded-blue effect +of the room. She pushed them about with a +vicious force, as though she hated the inanimate +offenders; her expression was sullen and +fretful.</p> + +<p>That expression altered too quickly, when +she saw Adriance standing on the threshold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></span> +He caught the skilful change that transformed +it into winning plaintiveness.</p> + +<p>"You, Tony?" she greeted him, advancing +to give him her hand. "I am so glad it was no +one else. <i>You</i> know how I must contrive and +make the best of what little I have. How I +loathe this cramped place, and bringing chairs +from bed-chambers to have enough, and all +pinching——!" She glanced about her with a +flare of contempt, her smooth scarlet lip lifting +in a sneer.</p> + +<p>Adriance slowly looked over the room, not +very large, perhaps, yet scarcely cramped; made +lovely by opalescent lamps and fragrant by the +perfume of roses set in high, slender vases of +rock-crystal. All one wall was smothered in +the silken warmth of a Chinese rug, against +whose blue was lifted the creamy whiteness of +an ivory elephant quaintly carved and poised on +its pedestal. Even to his eyes nothing here warranted +discontent.</p> + +<p>"I thought this very pretty," he dissented. +"I thought Masterson had done things very well, +here."</p> + +<p>"Well enough, for a nook in a house; not for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span> +the house," she retorted. "I hate living in +apartments. I always have wanted stairs; wide, +shining stairs down which I would pass to cross +broad rooms!"</p> + +<p>She drew a thirsty breath. In the gleaming +gown which left uncovered as much of her beauty +as an indulgent fashion allowed, her large light +eyes avid, her yellow head thrown slightly forward +as she looked up at the man, she was a +vivid and unconscious embodiment of greed. +Not the pitiful greed of necessity, but the greed +which, having much, covets more. As if he +shared her mind, Adriance knew that she pictured +herself descending the stairs in his +father's house gowned and jewelled as Mrs. +Tony Adriance could be and Lucille Masterson +could not.</p> + +<p>He was not aware of the change in his own +face until he saw its reflection in the sudden +alarm and question clouding hers. He answered +her expression, then, compelling his voice to hold +its low evenness of speech with the inborn distaste +of well-bred modern man for betrayed +emotion.</p> + +<p>"That is it," he interpreted. "That is why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span> +you would marry me and leave Masterson. You +want more than he can give you. If he had as +much to give as I have, it would not matter what +he did. You would bear with him. Perhaps you +have been bearing with me."</p> + +<p>"Tony!" she stammered.</p> + +<p>"It is quite true. I have been a solemn fool. +I have been nerving myself to lay down my +self-respect without flinching, because I believed +that I had led you to count upon me; and all +the while you were counting upon what I +owned."</p> + +<p>She gathered her forces together after the +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Rather severe, Tony, because I dislike expensive +tenement life!" she commented, with +careful irony. Turning aside, she laid her lace +scarf across a table, gaining a respite from his +gaze. "Have I ever pretended not to care for +beautiful, luxurious things? And does that +argue that I care for nothing else? I think you +should apologize—and pay more heed to your +digestion."</p> + +<p>He paused an instant, steadying himself. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span> +usual, she had contrived to make him feel in the +wrong and ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I do apologize," he said, less certainly. "I +did not come in here to say all that, Lucille. But +I did come to say what reaches the same end. +We cannot finish this thing we have begun. We +could not stand it. Think whatever you may of +me as a coward, I am not going on."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I think you have gone far enough," +she calmly returned. "Suppose we sit down and +be civilized. Will you smoke before dinner?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head, baffled in spite of himself +by her elusiveness, but also angered to resolution. +And he knew that he had seen her truly +a moment since; the loveliness that had glamoured +his sight for a year could not hide from +memory that glimpse of her mind.</p> + +<p>"I am not staying to dinner, thanks," he +refused. "And I am not playing. Our matter +looked bad enough as it was, but you showed me +a worse thing, just now. It was bad enough to +take my friend's wife for love; I can't and won't +take her by means of my father's money."</p> + +<p>She wheeled about, swiftly and hotly aflame, +and they stared at each other as strangers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have forgotten that we are engaged," +she said stingingly. "Or doesn't your conscience +heed a broken word?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is heeding the tactfulness of +being engaged to one man while you are married +to another," he struck back, goaded to a +brutality foreign to his nature.</p> + +<p>The faint chime of touching glasses checked +them on the brink of a breach that would have +made reconciliation impossible. Mrs. Masterson +dropped into a chair, snatching up a fan to +shade her flushed face. Adriance stood stiffly, +where he was, wisely making no attempt at artificial +nonchalance. The servant who entered +saw only composure in his immobility.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masterson eagerly lifted the offered +cocktail to her lips, as if anger had parched +them. Adriance took a glass from the tray presented +to him, but at once set it aside upon the +table; now that he realized, he felt that the hospitality +of this house was not for him. But the +brief interlude helped both of them.</p> + +<p>When the servant had gone, Adriance spoke +with restored calmness.</p> + +<p>"You see, even now the situation has warped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> +us all awry. If it were not so, I should like +to buy things for you, I suppose. I can +imagine——"</p> + +<p>He broke the sentence; quite suddenly he had +remembered the little buckled shoes bought for +the girl in the pavilion. He had looked interestedly +at other things in the shop, while he +waited for his parcel. It would have given him +delight to purchase certain elaborate stockings +and absurd lace-frilled handkerchiefs.</p> + +<p>"I can imagine that I should," he finished +lamely. "Lucille, you will come to agree with +me, I hope. But even if you do not, I cannot +go on."</p> + +<p>She rose and came up to him with a swift +movement that brought both her hands against +his shoulders before he grasped her intention. +Her warm face was directly beneath his own.</p> + +<p>"Is there someone else, Tony?" she demanded. +"Some girl? Of course it would be +a young girl who inspired all this; 'pure as +water'—and as tasteless! Is that it?"</p> + +<p>She might have struck him with less effect. +Tony Adriance went absolutely numb with disgusted +wrath. What preposterous thing did she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span> +imply? The shining gray eyes of the girl in the +pavilion looked at him across the alert, probing +gaze of Lucille Masterson; looked at him with +beautiful candor, with indignation. He felt outraged, +as if the young girl herself had been made +present in this nasty scene. And without cause! +He had no thought of loving that sober little +figure; he was sick of love.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you cannot credit me with one +disinterested motive," he said coldly. "As it +happens, you are wrong. There is no one except +you. I am going away because you are neither +unmarried nor a widow, since you force me to +repeat all this. If you were either——"</p> + +<p>"You would stay?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He looked down at her, and as always before +her magic his strength grew weak. He lifted her +hands from his shoulders, before replying.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he conceded, his voice changed. +"But it is over, Lucille. Tell Masterson I have +gone abroad; to stay."</p> + +<p>As he moved toward the door, Mrs. Masterson +turned to the table and caught up his +untouched glass. Fear and chagrin were swept +from her face; it still glowed from her late rage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span> +but her eyes were lighted with confidence and +ironic relief.</p> + +<p>"To your safe voyage and pleasant return!" +she exclaimed lightly, facing him across the +room. "For you will come back, Tony. The +spasm will pass; and leave you lonely. I can +wait, then. Good-night."</p> + +<p>She laughed outright at the consternation in +his glance, as he paused. But he turned and +went out, leaving her leaning across the arm of +one of the discordant rose-colored chairs, watching +him.</p> + +<p>Back in the foyer, Adriance stopped to recover +a conventional composure of bearing +before going out. He recalled that he must pass +inspection by the elevator boy and footman; +must meet their wonder, no less obvious because +dumb, at his departure before the dinner.</p> + +<p>The heavy blankness of his waiting was +broken by the gayest sound in the world. The +gurgling laughter of a happy child rippled +through the silence like a brook, cascading down +in a cadence of chuckles. As if to confirm the +recognition to which Adriance started, a girl's +clear laugh joined the baby merriment. Opposite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></span> +him, light showed in a thin line through a +curtained doorway. Without the slightest remembrance +of proprieties or conventions, he +sprang that way and swung the door open.</p> + +<p>He was on the threshold of a nursery; a +room pink as the inside of a rosebud, gay with +all the adorable paraphernalia babyhood demands, +fragrant with violet-powder and warm +as a nest. At the foot of a shining little bed, +clutching the brass rail for support while executing +a stamping dance, was the lord of the +domain; his silk-fine, frankly red hair rumpled +into glinting ringlets about his moist, rosy face, +his blue eyes crinkled shut by mirth. The girl +knelt opposite, steadying the chubby figure and +serenely indifferent to the small, mischievous +fingers that had loosened her dark hair from its +braids. Without her hat, she was younger, +even more wholesome and good than he had +thought. She looked as fresh and candid as the +damp, open-lipped kisses the baby lavished upon +her.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the intruder moved, perhaps she felt +his gaze, for as he watched the girl broke up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></span> +picture. She rose abruptly, turned, and saw +him standing there.</p> + +<p>At first her startled face told only of surprise; +indeed his mere presence there gave her +no reason to feel more. But in his dismay and +bewilderment and complete obsession Tony +Adriance betrayed himself.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," he stammered, grasping +blindly at justification and apology. "I didn't +know who Holly was—or that you lived here. +I am sorry; I should not have spoken——"</p> + +<p>He stopped short. He had forgotten the +fiction of a third person with which he had +masked his confidence in the park; forgotten that +the girl knew neither his name nor his purpose +in this house. Quite without necessity he had +enlightened her.</p> + +<p>For the girl was swift of perception. Perhaps +his expression alone would have told her +the truth, if he had been silent. Mechanically +she had put one arm around the baby, now she +drew it closer, as if in protection. Her rain-gray +eyes grieved, reproached, rebuked him. +Possessed of Lucille Masterson's plans, holding +her son, she faced him in judgment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course he had known Lucille had a child, +somewhat as he knew his father owned the factory +behind the electric sign. He never had seen +either of them, except distantly; they meant +nothing actual to him. But now, there seemed +nothing in the world so important. The girl had +not spoken, yet she had abruptly brought him +face to face with new things.</p> + +<p>"You know, I would have taken him, too," +he tried to answer all she left unsaid, hating +himself for the unsteady humility he could not +keep from his voice. "I always meant to. I +meant to do everything for the boy. I could—I +am Anthony Adriance."</p> + +<p>She spoke, then, her smooth voice all roughened.</p> + +<p>"You can buy him everything? You cannot +buy him his father. And nothing will make up +for that."</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>She struck down the weak protest.</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i>. I have a good father. And Holly," +the infinite compassion of her glance embraced +the baby, "he has not even a real mother to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> +her half. It is not right; you cannot make it +right."</p> + +<p>"But I have! I am going——!"</p> + +<p>He faltered. How was he to explain to her +the scene that had just been enacted? Was it +decent to Lucille?</p> + +<p>"I've done my best," he stammered. "I +told you; you know I've not liked this."</p> + +<p>The exclamation blended defiance and appeal; +it was almost a cry wrested from him. His position +had been hard enough before the introduction +of this new element. The girl understood, +for the anger died from her eyes like a blown-out +flame.</p> + +<p>"There must be a way," she said quite +gently. "There is always a right way, if one +can only find it. I think you had better not stay +here, now. Mr. Masterson always comes at this +time; it is even late for him."</p> + +<p>The warning had been delayed too long. +Almost with the last word, a man's step sounded +in the foyer, the curtains rustled apart and the +door swung.</p> + +<p>"What, Tony in a nursery!" exclaimed the +master of the house, with an oddly tired gayety.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> +He came forward and gave his hand to Adriance, +his amused scrutiny wholly cordial. If he wondered +how the other man came here, he was both +too indifferent and too well-bred to betray the +fact. "You have caught me; here is the only +place I am behind the times," he added. "Hello, +son!"</p> + +<p>Adriance was spared the necessity of replying. +The baby, who had stood staring round-eyed +at the visitor, exploded into a very madness +of chuckles and shouts, twisting out of the girl's +hold and plunging toward the newcomer with fat +arms insistently spread. With an apologetic, +half-diffident glance at his guest, Masterson +caught and swung Holly into the game of romps +demanded.</p> + +<p>It was a good game, evidently the result of +practice. The pink room rang with treble +shrieks of glee; and Masterson laughed, too, +occasionally interjecting phrases of caution or +comment.</p> + +<p>"Jove, what a punch! How's that for +muscle, Tony? Easy, son! How do <i>you</i> like +your wig pulled? Steady, now."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span></p> + +<p>The two in the background looked on. +Adriance's throat was contracting; he was suffocating +with a terrible sense of barely having +escaped a shameful action. He understood the +girl even better now. Only, if he loathed himself +so much, yet knew that at least he had ended +the wrong, how much more must her clear sight +find him despicable in her ignorance of his tardy +amendment! He dared not look at her. He +tried to remember Lucille Masterson's regretfully +murmured plaints of Fred's carelessness +with money, his "wildness" and neglect of her. +But he could only think heavily that if Mrs. +Masterson had obtained a divorce, the custody of +the child would surely have been awarded to +her, the irreproachable wife. There would have +been no more bedtime romps for Fred Masterson +and his son. How much alike the two looked! +He had forgotten how very auburn Fred's hair +was, and how boyish his eyes were when he +laughed.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/col02.jpg" width="352" height="500" alt="THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO MORE BEDTIME ROMPS FOR +MASTERSON AND HIS SON" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO MORE BEDTIME ROMPS FOR +MASTERSON AND HIS SON</span> +</div> + +<p>With a final toss and shout the dishevelled, +panting baby was replaced in the bed, one cheek +poppy-red from a rough masculine caress. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> +little shame-faced over the sentimentality, Masterson +turned to his guest.</p> + +<p>"All over!" he affected lightness. "Come +have a Martini before dinner, Tony."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. I couldn't." Adriance pulled +himself together with a sharp effort. "I heard +your kiddie laughing, and just looked in here. I +ought to apologize; I have not yet met this +lady——"</p> + +<p>Masterson regarded him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Miss Elsie Murray, Mr. Adriance," he +obeyed the implied request. "Miss Murray is +good enough to be Holly's guardian, since no one +of his family has time for that—or inclination."</p> + +<p>She was a nurse. The simple fact came home +to Adriance for the first time. The severe black +dress, the little white cuffs and collar that made +it a uniform, her constant attendance upon the +baby—all the obvious evidence had been overshadowed +for him by her face and bearing, the +personality out of all accord with the position +in which she was.</p> + +<p>There was no change in her face. He comprehended +that she never had imagined him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> +ignorant of her relation to Holly. Through all +his whirling confusion of thought, Adriance contrived +to hold outward composure and acknowledge +the introduction as he would that to any +gentlewoman. The quaint word seemed to suit +her.</p> + +<p>She met him with a poise at least equal to his +own. But it was he who offered his hand, heedless +of Masterson's observation. It seemed to +him that he never had desired anything in his +life so desperately, with such passionate eagerness +as he desired to be justified before this girl. +He wanted her to know the very thing he could +not honorably tell anyone: that he had broken +with Lucille Masterson of his own free will. +His eyes sought hers, unconsciously beseeching +her grace of comprehension; indeed, he had a +confused idea that she would comprehend that +his offered handclasp was ventured only because +he was not going to do the wrong they both +hated.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she did understand. At least, she +gave him her hand, for the first time in their +acquaintance. He grasped it with a brightening +of his drawn face, leaning toward her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">{74}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you!" he said. "I congratulate +Holly; you will teach him in time about Maître +Raoul Galvez."</p> + +<p>That speech took her by surprise; for an +instant she did not withdraw her hand, her direct +gaze meeting his. He saw her gray eyes cloud +and clear, and cloud again; abruptly her dark +lashes cloaked them from him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she murmured. "Yes."</p> + +<p>Masterson was staring at the two, his lips +parted by cynical interest. But no one perceived +the second observer. Mrs. Masterson had come +to the doorway while Masterson was playing +with the baby and still stood there, narrowed, +incredulous eyes appraising the amazing tableau +offered by her nursemaid and Tony Adriance. +She herself had followed Adriance for a last +word, unaware of her husband's return home. +And she had found this group, in her nursery.</p> + +<p>When the others moved, she drew back. The +curtains noiselessly fell shut. The two men +came into the foyer almost immediately, but the +bronze lamp lighted an empty room.</p> + +<p>Masterson asked no questions of his guest +as they paused outside the nursery, but Adriance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></span> +had recollected himself enough to shelter the +girl from embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I stopped one day to speak to your boy in +the park," he remarked casually. "Miss Murray +was telling him an odd fairy tale that struck +my fancy; Creole, I should think."</p> + +<p>Masterson dropped his hand on the other's +shoulder with an intimacy long unused between +them, ignoring the explanation.</p> + +<p>"We never seem to get together, any more, +except at some society nonsense," he regretted. +"We used to be pretty close, Tony. Remember +that night in the Maine camp after the canoe +had upset, when there was only one blanket left +and we tossed up for it? I don't remember who +won, but I know we both slept under it——as +much as we could get under." He laughed +reminiscently. "Well, it's a far cry from there +to here! Shall we go in to Lucille?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I have made my excuses to +Mrs. Masterson," Adriance answered steadily. +"I had a telegram——! I am off for the rest +of the year; perhaps longer. I am going to +South America."</p> + +<p>"Your father's business? I remember you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span> +once spoke of some such thing. I wish I were +going with you."</p> + +<p>He sighed with impatient fatigue, and the +two stood for a silent moment. Masterson +aroused himself to hold out his slender, nervous +hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, good luck go with you, Tony. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span>usually does, though! 'To him who hath——.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Little Red House</span></h2> + + +<p>The next day it stormed. A biting north +wind hunted across river and city; a wind that +carried the first ice-particles of the approaching +winter. There were no children on the Drive or +in the park, except a few sturdy urchins neither +of the age nor class attended by nurses. No one +uncompelled cared to face the grim, gray, scowling +day whose breath was freezing.</p> + +<p>In the Adriances' breakfast-room, an effort +had been made to offset the outside cheerlessness +by aid of lamps glowing under gold-colored +shades. But only an optimist could have deluded +vision into accepting the artificial sunshine as +satisfactory. Tony Adriance was even irritated +by the feeble sham, and snapped out the lamp +nearest to him as he took his seat.</p> + +<p>The action was trifling, but Mr. Adriance, +seated on the opposite side of the round table, +glanced keenly at his son and read an interpretation +of it. He believed that Tony wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span> +shadow the pale exhaustion of his face. In this +he was wrong; Tony Adriance was quite past +thoughts of his appearance. Not having looked +in a mirror, he was not even aware of the traces +left by the last night. He did not at all appreciate +the significance with which his father presently +inquired, courteously concerned:</p> + +<p>"You are not well, this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well, thank you," Tony replied; he +glanced up from his plate somewhat surprised at +the question.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance met the glance with sincere +curiosity. His first hazard failing, he sought +for a second. Indeed, he knew very well that +Tony had none of the habits which lead to uncomfortable +mornings, although to a casual regard +his present bearing suggested a white night. +Fortunately, he had not perceived the innuendo +within the older man's question and was not +offended. Mr. Adriance detested being in +the wrong.</p> + +<p>Tony was too listless to pursue the subject at +all. After vainly waiting a moment for his +father to explain the inquiry, he proceeded with +the business of breakfasting more or less indifferently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></span> +He was conjecturing as to his own +ability to set forth his trouble for the calm +inspection of the gentleman across the table. +He had come down-stairs with that intention, +born of the night's bitter experience of solitude +in unhappiness. Now he felt that the project +was impossible. His father and he were not on +terms of sufficient intimacy. He suffered an +access of discouragement and weariness. His +only idea had failed, yet something must be +decided, some course followed.</p> + +<p>"You dined at the Mastersons', last night, +I believe?" Mr. Adriance had found his second +hazard. Unconsciously his voice sharpened; it +would be intolerable if Tony and Masterson had +made some clumsy scene between them. Occasionally +Mr. Adriance wondered what so clever +a woman as Lucille Masterson had seen in either +of the two.</p> + +<p>"No," Tony denied.</p> + +<p>"No? I had understood——?"</p> + +<p>"I dined down-town."</p> + +<p>That was the first deliberate lie the younger +man had told the older in all their life together. +But Tony confronted an utter impossibility; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">{80}</a></span> +could not confess that he had sat until midnight +in a park pavilion, with no more thought of +life's common-sense routine than a sentimental +boy. Nevertheless, his voice sounded unconvincing +to his own ears, and humiliation swept +over him like a wave of heat. The desire to get +away from everyone and everything familiar +made it difficult for him not to spring up and +leave the room and the unfinished breakfast.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Adriance was convinced and +appeased. In his relief, he felt a really kind +desire to relieve Tony from his evident depression.</p> + +<p>"You appear to have something on your +mind," he observed. "If it is anything I might +remove, pray call upon me, Tony."</p> + +<p>"Financially?" queried his son, drily.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if you wish. You are not in the +least extravagant. In fact, you are a charming +contradiction of a great many popular conceptions +concerning those not forcibly employed."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. But I wish you would employ +me, sir, if not forcibly. I want to go away for a +time; not just—for amusement. Can you not +send me somewhere to take charge of your interests<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></span> +instead of a hired agent? I could learn +to help you, perhaps."</p> + +<p>The last expression was unfortunate. Mr. +Adriance's brow contracted and the cordiality +left his gaze.</p> + +<p>"I am not yet superannuated," he signified. +"When I am in need of help, I will ask it, Tony. +Naturally I intend training you to take charge +of your own affairs after my death. You will +find that quite enough to occupy you, some day. +I am sorry if you are unable to amuse yourself, +already. Next year, if you like, we will take up +the matter of your business education. This +year, I shall be too busy. You are young and +I am not old."</p> + +<p>His glance turned toward a mirror set in a +buffet opposite. The face reflected was clear in +outline, firm to the verge of hardness; the eyes +full and alert, the carefully brushed hair so +abundant that its grayness gave dignity without +the effect of age. Self-appreciation touched Mr. +Adriance's lip with a smile, as he gazed, smoothing +away his slight annoyance. His son, tracing +that glance, felt a movement of kindred admiration +and a renewed sense of his own personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> +inadequacy. Tony Adriance had accomplished +nothing, yet he was already tired. How would +he look when he was thirty years older? Hardly +like that, he feared. Nor would Fred Masterson! +Whose was the fault, and what the remedy?</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance, returning to his coffee, surprised +the other's observation of him, and +shrugged an unembarrassed acceptance of the +verdict.</p> + +<p>"We have plenty of time, you see," he remarked. +"Moreover, you are hardly ready for +abstract affairs. You are not sufficiently settled. +After you are married that will come. I myself +married young. Marriage makes private life +sufficiently monotonous not to interfere with the +conduct of outside matters of importance."</p> + +<p>"Does it?" speculated Tony, doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"It should. Monotony is closer to content +than is agitation, would you not say?"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that depend on the kind of monotony?"</p> + +<p>"Surely. That is why each man should +choose his own wife."</p> + +<p>"I see. If I ever choose a wife, I shall remember +the advice."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span></p> + +<p>This time Mr. Adriance was astonished. He +did not miss the significance of the remark, or +the alteration in Tony since the previous day, +when he had last seen him. It was not possible +to be explicit in a matter so delicate, especially +with servants present; but his curiosity was not +to be denied.</p> + +<p>"You have not—reached that point? I had +fancied——"</p> + +<p>"I have no such engagement at present," +was the steady reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance pushed away his finger bowl +and allowed his cigar to be lighted by the deferential +automaton behind his chair.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said.</p> + +<p>His son did not misunderstand him; in fact, +he understood more clearly than perhaps did the +older man himself. Mr. Adriance had chosen +the hostess he wanted for his house, or rather, +he had been enchanted by Tony's supposed +choice. Lucille Masterson filled his ideal of his +son's wife. Her loveliness would be a point of +pride; her social experience would make her +competent for the position; moreover, she was +too clever not to have courted and won the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></span> +genuine liking of Tony's father long ago. Fred +Masterson was hardly considered, except as an +obstacle readily removed, when the proper time +came. And now, Tony himself was overturning +all the pleasant family life that Mr. Adriance +had planned. He knew that his father never +willingly relinquished a perfected plan; rarely, +indeed, was he turned aside from a purpose on +which his mind was fixed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will reconsider that statement +later," Mr. Adriance presently suggested.</p> + +<p>"I think not, in the sense you mean," he made +slow reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance raised himself abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I hope so," he said, with a touch of sharpness; +"I hope you are not going to grow irresolute +and changeable, Tony. I detest weakness of +character. Perhaps you had better take a trip +somewhere and get yourself in tone."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Tony agreed; his voice was not +yielding, but sullen and desperate.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was as near illness as a man may +be without physical injury or disease. After his +father had left the breakfast-room he sat for a +long time in utter mental incapacity to undertake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> +any line of effort. Finally he arose, oppressed +with a sense of suffocation in the rich, +sombre atmosphere; of imprisonment and helplessness. +He wanted air and solitude, the solitude +he had come to the breakfast-room to +escape, and he could think of no place where he +could be so well assured of both as in his motor-car.</p> + +<p>In his abstraction he walked bareheaded +and without an overcoat across the frozen stretch +of lawn between the house and the garage. He +was quite indifferent to the weather; his chauffeur +put him into furs and passed him his gloves +and cap as a matter of course, or he might have +fared forth poorly equipped to meet the wind +and storm.</p> + +<p>He swung his machine from the cement incline +into the street and turned across Broadway. +He did not wish to pass Elsie Murray +ensconced in the park pavilion with Holly Masterson +at her knees; yet his thoughts were so +swayed by her that when he reached One Hundred +and Thirtieth Street he turned west again +and took the ferry across the Hudson. He had no +better reason for doing so than the tranquillity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span> +and content she seemed to draw from contemplating +the opposite shore.</p> + +<p>He sped up Fort Lee hill with a crowd of +other cars, turned west and north to escape their +companionship and all the landmarks he knew. +He avoided the main highway and chose mere +cross and hill roads and lanes. Always he had +before him the vivid, pretty face of Lucille, the +tired young face of Masterson and the gray eyes +of Elsie Murray.</p> + +<p>A nurse-maid! The girl who had told him +the legend of Raoul Galvez, the girl by whose +standard he had come to measure himself and +his companions and who had fixed the sluggish +attention of his conscience upon the mischief +being wrought by his yielding good nature—that +girl was Lucille's nurse-maid. That amazement +of the night before remained with him, +coloring all other emotions. He had come out +to arrange his thoughts, but the hours passed +and they remained in chaotic condition.</p> + +<p>Near noon he was running through a narrow +woodland track when a bend in the road suddenly +revealed his way blockaded by an enormous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> +wagon that stood before him. It was a moving +van; its canvas sides distended by bulky furniture +and household fittings, its rear doors tied +open to allow a huge old-fashioned cupboard to +stand between. Adriance brought his machine +to an abrupt halt.</p> + +<p>"Clear the way there," he impatiently +shouted to the invisible driver; "what is the +matter—broken down?"</p> + +<p>The answer came, not from the concealed +front of the van, but from the bank bordering +on the side of the road.</p> + +<p>"All right; but ain't it a shame that you blew +in at dinner-time!"</p> + +<p>The reply was unexpected; Adriance looked +towards the complainant's voice. In the shelter +of a big boulder that gave some protection from +the wind, three men were seated, each with a +leather lunch-box on his knee. Two of them +wore the striped aprons of moving-men; the +third evidently was the spokesman and the +driver. All three held various portions of food +and stared down at the intruder in the attitude +in which his advance had arrested them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">{88}</a></span></p> + +<p>"It ain't as if we could just turn out," the +driver pursued, not resentfully but with an impersonal +disgust. He put the apple in his hand +back into his lunch-box and stood up. "We've +got to go on a mile before there's room for you +to pass. Come on, boys."</p> + +<p>"No," Adriance aroused himself from self-absorption +to forbid the upheaval. "I am in no +hurry; finish your lunch, and I will wait."</p> + +<p>The three on the bank stared harder.</p> + +<p>"You're a sport," complimented the driver; +"but it ain't more than five minutes after +twelve."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it? Oh, I see; +you mean that you rest until one?"</p> + +<p>"You're on."</p> + +<p>"Well, I said that I was not in a hurry," he +accepted the delay he had not contemplated. +"Take your rest and I will smoke."</p> + +<p>The three men regarded each other, then the +driver slowly sat down. The munching horses +were blanketed against the cold, but the men +appeared careless of temperature. They obviously +were constrained by the presence of the +man in the automobile, however.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></span></p> + +<p>"This road ain't much used," the driver +ventured presently. "We're taking this load to +a farmhouse up here a ways. That's why we +thought we could stop traffic without being +noticed."</p> + +<p>His round, bright eyes asked a question that +Adriance answered with doubtful truthfulness.</p> + +<p>"I lost my way."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" The driver paused, then suddenly +slid down the bank.</p> + +<p>"Ain't we the hogs," he observed deprecatingly, +coming up to the side of the car and offering +his lunch-box. "Won't you eat?"</p> + +<p>The tired, dark-blue eyes of Tony Adriance +met the cheerful, light-blue eyes of the other man. +The two men were about the same age, and one +of them was desperately lonely and sick of his +own thoughts. They both smiled involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, I will," said Adriance; and took +a thick, rye bread sandwich from the box presented. +The driver sat down on the running-board +of the automobile and there ensued a well-employed +silence.</p> + +<p>The sandwich was excellent. Adriance had +eaten little breakfast; yet, left to himself, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span> +would hardly have thought of food in his bitter +preoccupation; but it did him good. The ham +smeared with cheap mustard had a zest of its +own, a little brutal, perhaps, but effective. It +was a generously designed sandwich, too, not a +frail wafer. He ate it all, even the acrid crust.</p> + +<p>"'Nother?" invited the host.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks; but that one tasted good." +Adriance drew out his cigar-case. "Won't you +all have a smoke with me, now?"</p> + +<p>The cigars were passed and lighted. Before +returning the case, the driver frankly inspected +the fine leather toy with the tiny monogram in +one corner.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he approved, returning +it to its owner. "I was afraid you'd pull out a +little gold box of cigarettes."</p> + +<p>"Why?" amused.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, my luck, I guess."</p> + +<p>"You don't like them?"</p> + +<p>"Me? I got a pipe three years old that holds +<i>some</i> tobacco—that for me. But this cigar is all +right. Ever try a pipe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The driver leaned back comfortably against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span> +the spare tire strapped beside the car, gazing +up at the gray, cold sky.</p> + +<p>"A pipe, my feet on the kitchen stove, the +kids and the missus—me for that, nights."</p> + +<p>Adriance looked at him with startled +scrutiny. Almost he could have imagined that +Elsie Murray had come to the man's side and +prompted him. What, was it then real and usual, +that homely content she once had painted so +vividly? Did most men have such homes?</p> + +<p>"You're married?" he vaguely asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure, these five years; we got two kids." +The boyish driver chuckled and shook his head +reminiscently. "Darn little tykes! What they +ain't up to I don't know. Dragged a big bull +pup in off the street last week, they did, and +scared the missus into fits. Pete—he's four—had +it by the collar bold as brass, and it ugly +enough to scare you. Say, I'm trying one of +those schemes for training kids on him; exercising +him, you know. You ought to see the +muscles he's got already, arms and legs hard as +nails. Think it will work all right?"</p> + +<p>Adriance looked down into the eager face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," he said slowly. "You cannot +be more than twenty-five or six——?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five is right."</p> + +<p>"You must have worked pretty hard?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since I was fourteen," was the cheerful +assent. He pulled out a watch of the dollar +variety and looked at it. "One o'clock it is! +We'll get along again, boys. Yes, I've been +busy. But the missus and I are saving up. +Some day I'm going to have a trucking business +of my own; there's good money in it. Well, +we're sure obliged to you for waiting for us."</p> + +<p>The other two men were coming down the +bank. Adriance drew off his glove and held out +his hand to his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"I am glad I met you. Good luck!"</p> + +<p>"Same to you!" He pulled off his mitten to +give the clasp. "Are you going to the ferry?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—? Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, turn off when you get to the next +road. It's a poor one, but it's a short cut to the +Palisades road."</p> + +<p>The horses were unblanketed and the bags +which had held their luncheon removed. The +men climbed into their places, and presently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span> +Adriance's lusty machine was rebelliously +crawling on behind the moving-van.</p> + +<p>At the end of a mile they came to the side +road, and parted with cheerful shouts of farewell.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to measure the good that +interlude of healthy companionship had done to +Tony Adriance. It had swept aside vapors, +cleared his mind to normality, invigorated him +like a pungent tonic. Yet it had laid a reproach +upon him. He contrasted himself with that boyish +husband and father; yes, contrasted Mr. +Adriance, senior, with that driver who was +anxiously training his son's body by his own +efforts after the day's work. He could not recollect +his father ever playing with him or seriously +advising him. Even Fred Masterson was doing +better.</p> + +<p>The road debouched abruptly upon the main +highway. A passing automobile momentarily +delayed Adriance, and looking idly across the +way, he perceived a house. After the other car +had passed and the way was open, he sat quite +still in his machine, gazing.</p> + +<p>There was nothing about the house before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> +him to catch the eye except a certain air of quaint +sturdiness that had survived desertion. It was +rather a cottage than a house, bearing a sign +"For Sale," and unoccupied. It was a red-painted +cottage, built in that absurd Gothic +fashion once favored by some insane builders. +Its ridiculous roof and windows were highly +peaked; its high, narrow porch had a pointed +top like a caricature of the entrance to <i>Notre +Dame de Paris</i>. It stood quite back from the +road with an air of abandonment; but it was +unconquerably cheerful, even against the gray +sky. It was a house that wanted to be cosy.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Adriance realized that he was very +tired. He was not ready to go home; he even +thought with abhorrence of going there. Yet he +was weary of guiding his machine along the +highway. He left his seat and walked up the +wood path—two planks in width—leading to +the cottage. The windows gaped, uncurtained; +he looked in, then deliberately seated himself +upon the step and lapsed into heavy revery.</p> + +<p>There were few passers-by on such a day. +Those who were compelled to the road lingered +in the cold to look curiously at the automobile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> +standing by the gutter and at the young man +who sat on the old wooden step.</p> + +<p>It was four o'clock when Tony Adriance rose +and went back to his automobile. He did not +turn down to the ferry, but looked again at the +signboard on the house; then turned his machine +about and drove to an address which was seven +miles inland.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Woman Who Gave</span></h2> + + +<p>Tony Adriance had not really heeded the +weather until he found his way to the stone +pavilion on Riverside Drive at dusk that evening. +Cold and wind had recorded slight impression +on his preoccupied mind and his healthy +body. Indeed, his feeling was that of a man passing +through a fever, rather than one chilled. And +he was hot with a savage sense of victory, for +he brought decision back with him. He knew, +at last, what he meant to do.</p> + +<p>He was brought to heed the weather by his +need of seeing the girl who was Holly's nurse. +He stood for a while in the pavilion, after realizing +the absurdity of expecting to find her, and +considered. He was accustomed to having his +own way; hardly likely to abandon it when his +necessity loomed urgent. His distrust of himself +was deep, if unconfessed; he dared not wait +until the next day. Besides, the storm might +continue. After a brief pause of bafflement, he +walked up to Broadway, found a stationer's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span> +shop and a messenger, and dispatched a note to +Miss Elsie Murray. He looked curiously at the +name, after it was written; it seemed so soft, +even childish, matched with that steadfastness +of hers to which he held as to the one stable +thing in his knowledge.</p> + +<p>Would she come? The doubt bore him company +on his way back to the pavilion. Could she +free herself from duties to come, if she wished? +He did not know, but he was obstinately resolved +to see her that night. He was indeed like a man +in a fever; one idea consumed him.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour passed; a half hour. +Dusk, their hour of adventure fixed by chance, +had almost darkened to night when Adriance +saw the small figure for which he watched step +from the curb. She hurried, almost ran across +the broad avenue, the wind wrapping her garments +around her.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," the man greeted her, his gratitude +very earnest.</p> + +<p>The girl brushed aside his speech with a +gesture. She was breathing rapidly; amid all +the shadows her face showed white and small.</p> + +<p>"Of course I came," she said. "It was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span> +easy—to come. I cannot stay long. But I +knew you would not have sent unless it was +important."</p> + +<p>"No," he affirmed, and paused. "I wonder +why you are there? I mean, why are you somebody's +nurse, to be ordered about when you +could do so much better things? Of course, I +can see how different you are!"</p> + +<p>He stopped, with a sense of alarmed clumsiness. +Because she was weary, the girl sat down +on the cold stone bench before answering.</p> + +<p>"You are quite wrong," she said quietly. +"I cannot do clever things at all. I do not mean +that I am stupid, exactly, but that I cannot do +anything so especially well as to make people pay +me for it. Neither can my father. I think he +is the best man in the world, and my mother the +dearest woman, but they cannot make money. +He is a professor of romance and history, at a +small college in Louisiana. There are a good +many of us—I have four younger sisters—so I +came North to support myself."</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"Not as a nurse, of course. I came with an +old lady whose son we knew at the college. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> +asked me to be her private secretary. But after +a few months she died. I could not go back to be +a burden. After I had tried to find other things +to do, and failed, I came to take care of Holly. +Why are we talking about me? There was something +important, you said?"</p> + +<p>"I—yes," Adriance said. He could read so +much more than she told. Afterward he was +ashamed to remember that he neither felt nor +expressed any pity for her disappointed hopes. +His whole attention was fixed on her steady +courage; the fighting spirit that he had divined +in her and toward which his indecision reached +weak hands groping in the dark for support.</p> + +<p>The girl shrank behind the stone column +nearest her as a blast of freezing wind rushed +past.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she spurred his hesitation.</p> + +<p>She was successful. He moved nearer her to +be heard; the fever of the last twenty-four hours +thickened and hurried his speech.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to tell you about Mrs. Masterson," +he told her. "In the first place, you +would not listen, and in the second place, I have +nothing to say. But you must know that last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> +evening she broke her engagement with me. I +mean, before I saw you in the nursery. I was +free, then."</p> + +<p>"She dismissed you?"</p> + +<p>He had deliberately thought out the falsehood +that protected Lucille Masterson at his own +expense. But it was harder than he had anticipated +to play this weak rôle before Elsie Murray.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he forced the difficult acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>"You need not have told me that," her slow +reply crossed the darkness to him. "I know it is +not true. And I know what is true. It does not +matter how I—learned. But we may as well +speak honestly."</p> + +<p>He could have cried out in his great relief. +Instead, he seized the offered privilege of speech.</p> + +<p>"I will, then! You know what I have done +to Fred Masterson. I brought the glamour of +money, of what I could buy, into his household +and made his wife awake to discontent and ambition. +I didn't know what mischief I was working, +until too late. I did not understand some of +it until last night. Now, what? Suppose I go +away? Where can I go? Abroad, or on a hunting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></span> +trip? While I was gone she would get the +divorce, when I came back she and the rest would +push me into the marriage. My own father is +pushing me. Everyone pities her and thinks the +thing is suitable. You don't know me! I like +her, and I'm easily pushed. I tell you I never +did anything but drift, until last night. I am +afraid of myself, yet."</p> + +<p>"Then, why have you sent for me?" she +asked, after a silence.</p> + +<p>There was as much sullenness as resolution in +the unconscious gesture with which he folded his +arms.</p> + +<p>"Because I mean to stop this thing. Because +I am going to take my own way for the rest of +the journey instead of being pushed and pulled. +I quit, to-night."</p> + +<p>"How? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I am leaving the position where I am not +strong enough to stand firm. And because I +know myself, I am fixing it so I cannot go back. +You"—he stumbled over the word—"you are +not much better off than I, so far as getting what +you want out of life is concerned. Do you want—will +you try the venture with me? I think, I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span> +sure I could keep my half of a home. You once +said you would like to be a poor man's wife——"</p> + +<p>The last word died away as if its boldness +hushed him with a sense of what he asked so +readily. The girl rose to her feet, swaying +slightly in the strong wind; her fingers gripped +the stone railing behind her while she strove to +see his face through the dark. A street lamp +sent a faint grayness into the pavilion, but he +stood in shadows.</p> + +<p>"You—are asking—me——?"</p> + +<p>He laughed shortly to cover his own embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"To marry a man who isn't much more than +a chauffeur out of work! Driving a car is my +only way of earning money, just now. Of course, +if we go away together we will have to live on +what I can bring in. It's not very dazzling, but +neither is being a nurse."</p> + +<p>Comprehension slowly came to her.</p> + +<p>"You would do this so you never could go +back," she whispered, half to herself. "To be +cut off from everyone, because of me!"</p> + +<p>"Not that!" he offered quick apology. +"Why, you are above me by every count I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span> +make! No, it is because I can't stand alone. +And, of course—if I were married——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Masterson would give her husband +another chance," she finished.</p> + +<p>He could not see her expression, but he felt +her bitterness, and that he was losing.</p> + +<p>"Don't be offended," he appealed. "I +thought we could be good friends—why, if I did +not respect and—and admire you, would I be +asking to spend my life with you? I know I am +not offering you much, but it's my best."</p> + +<p>"You do not love me."</p> + +<p>He bent his head to the assertion; for it was +an assertion, not a question. After the dazzling +companionship of Lucille Masterson, love +was scarcely an emotion he could associate with +the grave, quiet little figure of Elsie Murray. +He was surprised and embarrassed anew, and +showed it.</p> + +<p>"I am not very sentimental, I'm afraid. +Couldn't we start with friendship? I'll try to +make a good comrade for everyday."</p> + +<p>The delay was long, so long that he anticipated +the refusal and felt his heart sink with a +sense of loss and apprehension. All his plans,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></span> +he suddenly realized, were founded upon a +strength drawn from her. He felt the tremor +of his structure of resolution, with that support +withdrawn. Unreasonable bitterness surged +over him. Even she would not have him, penniless.</p> + +<p>She was shivering. He noticed that, when +she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You wish us to understand each other?" +she said, her voice quite steady. "Very well. +Remember, then, I never knew who you were +until last night. You were just a man who +seemed lonely, as I was just a woman alone. +Remember that I am human, too, and imagine +things, and how monotonous it is to be a nurse +and do the same things every day. I thought +you talked to me and came so often because you +were commencing to like me. Once you bought +violets from a man on the corner, then threw +them away before you crossed to me. I knew +you meant them for me, but feared I would not +like you to give them to me. I liked you better +for throwing them away than for buying them. +I was—foolish. And I cannot marry you, because +you do not love me, while I—might you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span></p> + +<p>With the last low word, she passed him and +went from the pavilion, not in running flight, +but with the swift, certain step of finality. +Adriance was left standing, struck out of articulate +thought. The astounding blow had fallen +among his accumulated ideas and scattered them +like dust. She loved him. Slowly stupefaction +gave place to hot shame for the insult of his +proposal to her. He had been coarse, selfish +beyond belief and wrapped in egotism. He had +asked her to be his wife with the grace of one +engaging a housemaid. And he might have +had the unbelievable! A slow-rising excitement +mounted through him; a tingling, vivifying interest +in the future he had faced with such sullen +indifference.</p> + +<p>She was gone from sight. Adriance was not +rapid of thought, or readjustment. But he knew +where to look for her, now. He sprang from the +pavilion and ran, throwing his weight against +the wind's blustering opposition. The physical +effort, in that stinging air, sent his blood racing +with tonic exhilaration. He felt dulness and +morbidity dropping away from him; zest of life +taking their place.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl was crossing a dark little strip of +park that lay before the house where the Mastersons +lived, when he overtook her.</p> + +<p>"Elsie Murray!" he panted. "Elsie +Murray!"</p> + +<p>His voice had changed, and his accent. He +spoke to her possessively; he no longer depended, +he directed. Instantly sensitive to the +difference, the girl stopped.</p> + +<p>"Are you running away from me, Elsie +Murray?" His hand closed lightly on her arm, +he stood over her with the advantage of his +superior height, and she heard him draw the +cold air deeply into his lungs. "I did not tell +you the truth, back there. I meant to, but I did +not know it myself. I want what you might give, +and I want to give as much to you. Why, do +you know what started me toward ending all +this bad business, what has given me the will +to keep on? It was what you said, the first night +I saw you, about a woman waiting for her husband, +with the lamps lit, and all. I can't say +what I mean—I'm clumsy! But, will you come +keep the lamp for me?"</p> + +<p>She tried to speak, but to his dismay and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span> +her own, instead covered her face; not weeping, +but fiercely struggling not to weep.</p> + +<p>"No," she flung refusal at him. "No! No!"</p> + +<p>As her firmness lessened, his gained. She +looked pitiful and helpless, she, his tower of +strength. Suddenly, protectingly, he caught her +from the assault of a violent swirl of the gale; +caught and held her against him, in the curve +of his arm.</p> + +<p>"If you may love me, and I want you, we +have enough to start with," he gently insisted. +"I promise you I'll do my part. Will you try +it with me?"</p> + +<p>She remained still. But the long pause, the +contact between them, joined with the change +in the man and helped him.</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me to-night?" he pressed.</p> + +<p>She drew away from him with a flare of her +natural resolution.</p> + +<p>"No! Not to-night, if you could!"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then?"</p> + +<p>"Go home," she bade him. "Go home; think +of everything—of what you have and what you +would leave, of all you want and must miss. +<i>Think.</i> And if, to-morrow——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"If you are sure, come back. I——may try +it."</p> + +<p>He knew better than to force her further.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then, I will meet you at noon, +in the pavilion," he yielded, quietly, in spite of +his leaping excitement. "And there is something +else. Once I bought these, for you. Of +course I dared not give them to you, afterward. +But I did not throw them away, and I brought +them in my pocket to-night. Perhaps you will +wear them to-morrow, when we go away."</p> + +<p>The storm swooped down again. This time +he did not hold her from the gust, and she flitted +with it into the darkness. But she took the little +package he had pressed into her hands; she had +at last the little pair of buckled shoes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Daring Adventure</span></h2> + + +<p>They were married at two o'clock the next +day. The wedding was in church, at Elsie Murray's +desire. With a certain defiance expressive +of his attitude toward all the world, Adriance, +after obtaining their license, took her to the +rector of that costly and fashion-approved cathedral +which the Adriances graced with their membership +and occasional attendance. Of course +the two were met with astonishment, but there +was a decision in the young man's speech and +bearing that forbade interference. The clergyman +did not find the familiar, easy, good-natured +Tony Adriance in the man who curtly +silenced delicate allusion to the wedding's unexpectedness +and the surprising absence of Mr. +Adriance, senior.</p> + +<p>"I am over age, and so is Miss Murray," +was the brief statement, whose finality ended +comment. "Will you be good enough not to +delay us; we are leaving town?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span></p> + +<p>There were no more objections. Of course +the bride was not recognized as Mrs. Masterson's +nurse; she simply was an unknown girl. +And she did not in any way suggest that Mr. +Adriance was marrying out of his world. +Adriance himself entirely approved of her in +this new rôle. He liked her dark-blue suit with +its relieving white at throat and wrists, and her +small hat with a modest white quill at just the +right angle. And she wore the shining, Spanish-heeled, +small shoes of his choosing. He noticed +how large her gray eyes were, when she lifted +them to his, large, and clear as pure water is +clear under a still, gray sky. But her heavy +lashes threw shadows across them, as he had +once seen lines of shadow lie across a little lake +in Maine on an autumn day. He wondered if she +was happy, or frightened. He could not tell +what she was thinking or feeling.</p> + +<p>So they were married before the imposing +altar of cream-hued marble, and the conventional +notice went to the newspapers:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Adriance-Murray. Elsie Galvez Murray to Anthony +Adriance, Jr., by the Rev. Dr. Van Huyden, at St. Dunstan's +Cathedral.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span></p> + +<p>It was very simply done, for so daring an +adventure.</p> + +<p>When they stood outside, in the sparkling +autumn sunshine, Elsie Adriance asked her first +question.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?" she wondered, in her +soft, blurred speech that now Adriance recognized +as of the South. Her middle name had +caught his attention also. There once had been +a governor of Louisiana called Galvez; New +Orleans has a street named for him.</p> + +<p>But he was not thinking of ancestry now. +He looked doubtfully at his companion. In spite +of his repressed bearing, he was suffering a +terrible excitement and a tearing conflict of +will and desire. He was acutely conscious of +the finality of what had been done; and one part +of him wished it undone. He thought of his +father and Lucille as a man in a fever thinks; +glimpsing them in a confusion of remembered +pictures, conceiving their future attitude with +the exaggeration of his unreasoning sense of +guilt and belated regret. He felt himself in +bonds, and the instinct of escape gripped and +shook him. But he kept himself in hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where do you wish to go?" he temporized, +withholding his own wish. It became him to +consider her first, now and hereafter.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I follow you," she reminded him, quite +simply and gravely. "Where would—it be easiest +for you? You spoke of going out of town; +perhaps that would be best. I think, it seems to +me, that we should start as we mean to go on."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he exclaimed eagerly. She had +offered him his inmost desire; in his gratitude +he caught her hand, stammering in the rush of +words released. "Yes. If you will go, I have +a house—our house. Let me tell you. Yesterday, +after meeting you at Masterson's the night +before, I was at the limit. I had to keep out of +doors and keep moving, or go to pieces. I kept +seeing Fred, and Holly. Well, I took a long +drive; across the river, I went, perhaps because +you were always looking over there as if it were +some kind of a fairyland. And on the way back, +on the road along the Palisades, I saw the house. +It was—I stopped and went in. It looked like a +place you had made a picture of. I can't explain +what I mean, but I sat down there and thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span> +things out. You won't be angry? I bought it. +Not that I was so sure of you! You see, if you +refused to take me, I knew I had money enough +to buy fifty like it for a whim. And if you would +come, it was the house."</p> + +<p>There was no anger in her glance, only a +heartening comprehension and cordial willingness.</p> + +<p>"Let us go there," she agreed. "I should +like that best of all."</p> + +<p>Reanimated, he put her into the waiting +taxicab, gave the chauffeur his directions, and +closed the door upon their first wedded solitude.</p> + +<p>"But this is one of the things we must not +do," she told him, bringing the relief of humor +to the situation. "We must not take taxis and +let them wait for us with a price on the head of +each moment. It is more than extravagant; +it is reckless."</p> + +<p>He laughed out, surprised.</p> + +<p>"So it is. I am afraid you will have a lot +to teach me."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she assumed the burden. "Yes."</p> + +<p>They rode down to the ferry, and the taxicab +rolled on board the broad, unsavory-smelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> +boat. When the craft started, the vibration of +the engine sent a throbbing sense of departure +through Adriance such as he never had felt in +starting a European voyage. This time he could +not return. He was humbly grateful for Elsie's +silence, which permitted his own.</p> + +<p>On the Jersey side their cab slowly moved +through the dark ferry house, then plunged out +into a sun-drenched world and swung blithely up +to the long Edgewater hill. They left the river +shipping behind, presently. The sunlight glittered +through the woods that still clothe the long, +rampart-like stretches along the summit of the +great cliffs; a forest of jewels like the subterranean +woods of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, +only instead of silver and diamonds these trees +displayed the red of cornelian and brown of +topaz all set in copper and bronze. The storm +of the night before had littered the ground with +the spoils of Lady Autumn's jewel-box; the air +was spicily sweet and very clear.</p> + +<p>The village on the first slope of the hills had +been dingy and poor. Here above, on the heights +winding up the river, there were few houses, +with long spaces between. Elsie leaned at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span> +window, her wide eyes embracing all. Adriance +leaned back, seeing nothing.</p> + +<p>The taxicab finally stopped, nevertheless, at +his signal, before a little red cottage set far back +from the road.</p> + +<p>"Here?" the chauffeur queried, with incredulous +scorn.</p> + +<p>"Here," Adriance affirmed, swinging out +their two suit-cases and his wife. He laughed +a little at the man's face. "How much?"</p> + +<p>The toll pointed Elsie's warning. She made +a grimace at her pupil. His spirits mounting +again, Adriance answered the rebuke by catching +her hand to lead her up the absurd, staggering +Gothic porch in miniature.</p> + +<p>"I'll come back for the baggage," he promised. +"Come look, first."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything inside?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I——" he looked askance at her. +"I bought things, at a shop in Fort Lee, early +this morning. I suppose they're all wrong."</p> + +<p>She met his diffidence with a smile so warm, +so enchanting in its sweet, maternal raillery and +indulgence that his heart melted within him. +And then, as he fumbled with the key, she took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> +from her hand-bag a book and a small glass +bottle, and gave them to him.</p> + +<p>"What——?" he marvelled.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" she wondered at him. +"'Where was you done raised, man?' Don't +you know there is no luck in the house unless +the first things carried into it are the Bible and +the salt?"</p> + +<p>He did not know, but he found the superstition +of a singular charm.</p> + +<p>"Give me the salt, then, and you take the +other," he divided the ceremony.</p> + +<p>"No," she denied quietly. "You should +carry the Book, because you will make the laws. +I will take the salt, because I shall keep the +hearth."</p> + +<p>So they went in, he oddly sobered by the dignity +she laid upon him.</p> + +<p>There were only two rooms on the ground +floor. The one into which they stepped was +large and square, with a floor of brick faded to +a mellow Tuscan red, and walls of soft brown +plaster. A brick fireplace was built against the +north side; the furnishings comprehended two +arm-chairs, a round Sheraton table and china<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></span> +closet, a tall wooden clock, and four rag rugs +in red and white. In one corner, modestly retired, +a plain deal table supported an oil cook-stove, +with an air of decent humility and shrinking +from observation. The open door beyond +revealed a bed-chamber, also rag-rugged, furnished +with a noble meagreness, but displaying +a four-posted bed of carved and time-darkened +ash. Elsie took a long, full look, then regarded +her husband with widening eyes.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, <i>where</i> did you buy them? And +what did you pay for them?"</p> + +<p>No one within his memory had ever called +Adriance by his unabbreviated name. It came +to him as part of this new life where he was full-grown +man and master. And he welcomed the +frank comradeship with which she used it, without +a sentimental affectation of shyness.</p> + +<p>"At a little place with a sign 'Antiques'," he +confessed. "I had passed it in the car. I +thought they might do as well as new things, +since we have got to economize. I never bought +any furniture before; if they won't do——"</p> + +<p>"They are perfect." The mirth in her eyes +deepened. "But you had better let me help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></span> +you, next time we shop economically. Hadn't +we better build a fire, first, to drive away the +chill? Oh, and is there anything to eat?"</p> + +<p>"In the cupboard over there; everything the +grocer could think of," he said meekly. "I'll go +get anything else you say. First, though, I'll +run down to the gate and bring in our suit-cases."</p> + +<p>"Do," she approved. "I want an apron. +Do you know, you never asked me if I could +cook."</p> + +<p>"Can you?"</p> + +<p>"Wait and see. What woman thought of the +oil-stove?"</p> + +<p>"The antiquarian's wife. She said the fireplace +was more bother than it was use and suggested +stuffing it with paper to keep the draughts +out."</p> + +<p>"Well, we will stuff it with fire," she declared.</p> + +<p>They built the fire; or rather, Adriance built +it, aided by the girl's tactful advice. When the +flames were roaring and leaping, she sent him +to the nearest shop where lamps could be purchased,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> +the trifling question of light having been +overlooked.</p> + +<p>When he hurried back from the village, the +need of light was becoming imminent. Dusky +twilight came early here under the edge of the +hills. Climbing the steep road, Anthony +Adriance looked across the violet-tinted river +toward the chain of lights marking the street +where Tony Adriance had lived and idled. Already +he knew himself removed, altered; he was +interested in keeping on with this thing. Of +course, he must keep on, he had set a barrier +blocking retreat; he had taken a wife.</p> + +<p>He opened the brown door of the shabby little +cottage, and stopped.</p> + +<p>The fire on the hearth had settled to a warm, +rosy steadiness, filling the room with its glow +and starting velvet shadows that tapestried the +simple place with an airy brocade of shifting +patterns. In the centre of the room stood the +round table, robed in white and gay with the +antique shop's ware of blue-and-white Wedgewood. +The perfume of coffee and fragrance of +good food floated on the warm air. The fire +snapped at intervals as if from jovial excess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> +of spirits, and a tea-kettle was bubbling with +the furious enthusiasm of all true tea-kettles. +It was the room of his fancy, the unattainable +home that Elsie had pictured on the first evening +he had spoken to her out of his sick heart.</p> + +<p>Elsie herself stood beside the hearth. Elsie? +He never had seen her like this. But then, he +scarcely had seen her at all except in the severe +black of a nurse's livery.</p> + +<p>She had merely taken off her jacket, now, +although he did not realize the fact. Her soft +white blouse rolled away from a round, full +throat pure in color and smoothness as cream. +She was no sylph-slim beauty, but a deep-bosomed, +young girl-woman, fashioned with that +rich fulness of curve and outline that artists +once loved, but which Fashion now disapproves. +Her mouth, too, curved in generous, womanly +softness; neither a thin line nor a round rosebud. +Her dark hair rippled of itself around +her forehead and was lustrous in the firelight.</p> + +<p>His entrance caught her off guard. He surprised +herself in her eyes, before she masked +feeling in gayety. And he saw a wistful, frightened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span> +girl whose trembling excitement matched +his own.</p> + +<p>The latching of the door behind him ended +the brief instant of revelation. At once she +turned to him the cordial comrade's face he +knew.</p> + +<p>"Dinner is served," she announced merrily. +"At least, it is waiting in the oven. We have +hot biscuits, scrambled eggs, a fifty-eighth +variety of baked beans, and strawberry jam. +There is no meat, because you only shopped at +a grocery, sir. Do you really adore canned oysters, +Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"I never tasted one," he slowly replied, +putting down the packages he had brought, +without taking his gaze from her.</p> + +<p>"Well, you bought six tins of them," she +shrugged.</p> + +<p>He made no pretense of replying, this time, +moving across the room toward her. He was +remembering that she was a bride, who by her +confession loved him, and that he had given +her nothing except the gold ring compelled by +custom; not a caress, not a flower, even, to speak +of tenderness and reassurance. He was astounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span> +at himself, appalled by his degree of +selfish absorption. All day she had given him +of her understanding, her warm companionship, +her gracious tact and heartening cheerfulness, +exacting nothing—and he had taken. Oh, yes, +he had taken!</p> + +<p>Troubled by his silence, her color mounting +in a vivid sweep, the girl tried to turn aside +from his approach.</p> + +<p>"We must have a little cat," she essayed +diversion. "I hope you like kittens? Purrs +should go with crackling logs. Not an Angora +or a Persian; just a pussy."</p> + +<p>Her voice died away. Very quietly and +firmly Adriance had taken her into his arms.</p> + +<p>"I've made a bad beginning," he made +grave avowal. "I am learning how much I need +to learn. And I don't deserve my luck in having +you to teach me."</p> + +<p>She rested quietly in his arms, as if conceding +his right, but she did not look at him. She +was very supple and soft to hold, he found. +There breathed from her a fresh, faint fragrance +like the clean scent of just-gathered daffodils, +but no perfume that he recognized. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> +was individual even in little things. He wondered +what she was thinking. The uneven rise +and fall of her breast timed curiously with the +pulse of his heart, as she leaned there, and the +fact affected him unreasonably. He did not +want her to move; warmth and content were +flowing into him. Content, yet—— Suddenly, +he knew; a man confronted with a blaze of light +after long groping.</p> + +<p>"Elsie!" he cried, his voice sounding +through the room his great amazement. "Elsie! +Elsie!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him then, putting her two +little hands on his breast and forcing herself +back against his arm that she might read his +face. But he would not have it so, compelling +her submission to the marvel that had mastered +him. What the church had essayed to do was +done, now. Anthony Adriance had taken a wife.</p> + +<p>"I love you," he repeated, inarticulate still +with wonder, his lips against her cheek. "Why +didn't you tell me? I love you."</p> + +<p>He never forgot that she met him generously, +with no mean reminder of his tardiness. She +took his surrender, and set no price on her own.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span> +Her lips were fresh as a cup lifted to his thirst +for good and simple things; he thought her kiss +was to the touch what her eyes were to the gaze, +and tried clumsily to tell her so.</p> + +<p>When they finally remembered the delayed +supper, that meal was in need of repairs. And +because now Adriance would not suffer the width +of the room between himself and his wife, he +insisted in aiding her in the process, thereby +delaying matters still further. Nine o'clock had +been struck by the clock in the corner when they +sat down to table, lighted by the new lamp. It +had a garnet shade, that lamp, upon which its +purchaser received the compliments of Mrs. +Adriance.</p> + +<p>She delivered an impromptu lecture on the +subject, as the light glowed into full radiance +and illumined her, seated behind it.</p> + +<p>"Red, sir, is the color of life. It was the +color of the alchemist's fabled rose, looked for +in their mystic cauldrons, because if the ruddy +image formed on the surface of the brew, the +bubbling liquid was indeed the true elixir of +youth and immortality. Red is the color of +dawn, of sunset, of a fireside; of bright blood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> +poured splendidly for a good cause or daintily +glimpsed in a girl's blush. Red are a cardinal's +robes, a Chinese bride's gown, a Spanish bride's +flowers. To be kept in a red-draped chamber, +in Queen Elizabeth's time, was believed to cure +beauty of the smallpox without a scar. Lastly, +red is the color of the heart."</p> + +<p>"'Lord, keep our heart's-blood red,'" paraphrased +Adriance soberly. "I am not clever +like you, but I know red is the color of your +own jewels."</p> + +<p>"Mine?"</p> + +<p>He caught her hands across the table.</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten what stones were likened +to the value of a good woman? Elsie, +Elsie, when I can, I will give you—not diamonds +or pearls, but rubies. Rubies, for to-night."</p> + +<p>Neither of the two was given to continued +sentimentality of speech. But the deep happiness, +the shining wonder that still dazzled them +found expression in plans for this new future; +mere suggestions for the comfort of the house +or the pleasure of their leisure together. She +mentioned a much-discussed book, and he promised +to read it aloud to her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">{126}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've always wanted to read aloud, but I +never found anyone who would listen," he told +her, over the strawberry jam and coffee. "You +can't escape, so——! You can embroider, and +listen."</p> + +<p>"Embroider!" She heaped scorn on the +word. "Let me inform you, sir, that there will +be dish-towels to hem, and napkins. Do you +know we have only one tablecloth, and that has +a frightful border, with fringe? Blue fringe? +And there are no curtains at the windows. Embroider? +I shall <i>sew</i>, and listen."</p> + +<p>"Well, so long as you listen!" He lighted +a cigar and leaned back luxuriously. "What +little hands you have!"</p> + +<p>She spread them out on the table and seriously +contemplated them.</p> + +<p>"Most Southerners have. Didn't you ever +notice it, even with the men? Down in Louisiana +most of us have some French or Spanish blood. +But mine have not been do-nothing hands, and +I think they show it a little bit."</p> + +<p>He stopped her, with a sudden distasteful +memory of certain wax-white, wax-smooth and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></span> +useless hands that almost had laid hold on his +life.</p> + +<p>"I hope that mine may soon show something. +To-morrow I will try to become a wage-earner, +and start a pay envelope to bring you."</p> + +<p>"So soon?"</p> + +<p>"Right away. Am I one of the idle rich? +The fact is, our grocer tells me chauffeurs are +badly needed at a certain factory near the foot +of the hill. I think I should rather drive a motor +truck than pilot a private car, open doors and +touch my cap."</p> + +<p>She nodded agreement.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. What factory is it, +Anthony?"</p> + +<p>He regarded her with a whimsical humor.</p> + +<p>"Well, to be exact, it is not a factory unfamiliar +to us. It is one whose sign you often +have viewed from the aristocratic side of the +Hudson, and it is the property of Mr. Anthony +Adriance, senior."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" startled. "Is, is that—safe?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he wondered. "We haven't +broken any laws, have we? The worst he could +do, if he wanted to do something melodramatic,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span> +would be to fire me. But he will not. In the +first place, why should he? In the second, he +knows a trifle more about the natives of Patagonia +than he knows about the men who drive +his trucks. I don't believe he has been in this +factory for ten years. New York is his end. +And I'm giving him a square deal; he will have +a very valuable chauffeur, Mrs. Adriance—one +who can drive a racing-machine, if required!"</p> + +<p>She disclosed two dimples he had not previously +observed. But her eyes hid from the +challenge of his and she rose hastily to clear +away the dishes.</p> + +<p>"Let them stand," he commanded, man-like.</p> + +<p>There she was firm in rebellion, however. +Finally they compromised on his assisting her.</p> + +<p>"We must have a dog, too," he decided, +when all was neat once more. He glanced about +the fire-bright room with a proprietary air. +"One that will not eat your kitten."</p> + +<p>"With a nice watch-doggy bark?"</p> + +<p>"With anything you want!" He turned +abruptly and drew her to him. "Elsie, suppose +I had missed you? What a poor fool I've been!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> +Last night—— Why don't you take it out of +me? Why don't you make me pay as I deserve?"</p> + +<p>She smiled with the delicately-mocking indulgence +he was learning to know and anticipate; +it sat upon her youth with so quaint a wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am, or will."</p> + +<p>"I believe now that I loved you from the first +day. I know that I kept thinking about you and +considering everything from the point of view I +fancied you would take. You"—with sudden +anxiety—"you do not regret coming with me, +Elsie? What were you thinking of, just now, +when your eyes darkened? You looked——"</p> + +<p>"Of Holly," she answered simply. "I hope +his new nurse will play with him, and cuddle +him."</p> + +<p>"The baby?" Her fidelity touched him with +a warm sense of promise for his own future. +"Yes, I have taken you from him. But, we left +him his father."</p> + +<p>The allusion brought a constraint. The +words spoken, Adriance flushed like a woman +and turned his ashamed eyes away from the girl.</p> + +<p>"You did not take me from Holly," Elsie +hurriedly corrected. "Mrs. Masterson discharged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span> +me, night before last. I was to go to-day, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"You? Why?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"She came to the nursery door while you +were speaking to me of telling Holly the story +of Maît' Raoul Galvez. You know, Holly is too +much a baby to hear stories, so she understood +that you meant—other things. And it seems +that once you had spoken to her of that story. +She—made connections. She accused me of—of +flirting with her guests; of being—an improper +person."</p> + +<p>"Elsie!"</p> + +<p>"It is all over. It does not matter, now. +But that was how I knew she did not send you +away. Of course she said nothing to tell me; +she is too clever. But, you see I knew so much +already; and when I saw she was jealous even +of your speaking to me——!"</p> + +<p>The silence continued long. Both were thinking +of Lucille Masterson. As if she feared the +man's thoughts, Elsie shrank away from her +husband's clasp, the movement unnoticed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span> +him. Her clear eyes clouded with doubt, a +creeping chill extinguished their glow.</p> + +<p>Adriance spoke first, breaking at once the +pause and the barrier.</p> + +<p>"Once they must have been like this—like us. +She would have left Fred, left him down and +out, for a new man; and she his wife!"</p> + +<p>Disgust was in his voice, wondering contempt. +He pressed his own wife hard against his +side. But Elsie dragged her arms from the +hold that bound them, and impulsively clasped +them about his neck in her first offered caress.</p> + +<p>"You were thinking <i>that</i>?" she cried, fiercely +glad in her triumph. "Anthony, you were thinking +that?"</p> + +<p>He stooped his head to meet her glance; +standing together, they looked into each other's +eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Andy of the Motor-Trucks.</span></h2> + + +<p>The man behind the wicket leaned forward +to survey the man outside. The gate-keeper +at the main entrance to Adriance's was the prey +of a double vanity that kept his attention alert: +he was vain of his own position, and of his ability +to judge the positions of other men. This +was his seventeenth year in the cage of ornamental +iron-work, and he had brought his hobby +into it with his first day there. He delighted +in difficult subjects, now, who baffled a casual +inspection.</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, with an air of bored certainty +that he classified this morning visitor at +a glance, and settled back on his high stool.</p> + +<p>"Office door to the right, sir," he directed, +briefly, but respectfully. "Boy there will take +in your card, sir."</p> + +<p>"I understand chauffeurs are wanted here," +said the visitor, his composed gaze dwelling on a +poster to that effect affixed to the nearest wall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></span></p> + +<p>The gate-keeper stared.</p> + +<p>"I guess so——?"</p> + +<p>"Is the office the place where I should apply +for such work?"</p> + +<p>"Trucking department; turn left, down basement, +Mr. Ransome," vouchsafed the chagrined +concierge, severely wounded in his self-esteem. +So blatant a mistake had not offended his pride +in years. He turned in his seat and craned his +thin neck to watch the stranger swing blithely +away in the direction indicated.</p> + +<p>"Chauffeur!" he muttered. "Walks as if +Adriance's was his private garage an' he was +buildin' himself a better one around the corner! +Hope Ransome throws him out!"</p> + +<p>But Ransome of the motor-trucks was in +urgent need of men and disposed to be more tolerant. +Moreover, his sensitive vanity had taken +no hurt that morning. But he looked rather +closely at the applicant, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"Used to chauffing private cars, aren't you?" +he shrewdly questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted Adriance.</p> + +<p>"I thought so! Where was your last place?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I drove for Mr. Adriance, junior," was the +grave response.</p> + +<p>The man whistled.</p> + +<p>"You did, eh? Why did he fire you?"</p> + +<p>"He left New York for the winter, without +taking his machines along."</p> + +<p>"Did he give you a reference?"</p> + +<p>"I can bring one to-morrow, or I can go get +it now, if you want me to start work at once. +I haven't it with me."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot it would be needed."</p> + +<p>This was unusual, and produced a pause. +Ransome studied his man, and liked what he saw.</p> + +<p>"Married?" he shot the next routine question.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Anything against you on the police records? +Accidents? Overspeeding?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"I can see you don't drink. You know +Jersey?"</p> + +<p>"Not so well as New York, but well enough +to pick up the rest as I go along."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's irregular, but we're short-handed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></span> +Give me your license number so I can +verify that. Bring your reference to-morrow, +and if it is all right—— I'll take you on to-day, +on trial. Wait; I'll give you your card."</p> + +<p>The inquisition was safely past. Adriance +smiled to himself as he watched the superintendent +fill out the card that grudgingly permitted +him to earn his first wage. He was intoxicated, +almost bewildered by his own lightheartedness. +His body was still tired and beaten +after the miserable conflict from which his mind +had resiliently leaped erect to stand rejoicing +in the sunlight. To-day he could have overcome +a hundred ill chances, where one had yoked +him yesterday.</p> + +<p>"Name?" came the crisp demand from the +man writing.</p> + +<p>"Anthony Adriance."</p> + +<p>"What!" The superintendent's head came +up abruptly. "Why—what connection——?"</p> + +<p>"Poor relation," classified Adriance coolly. +He had anticipated this, but he could not have +endured the furtive discomfort and risk of a +false name. "All rich men have them, I suppose."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span></p> + +<p>His indifference was excellently done. The +superintendent nodded acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so; must have been queer, +though! What did young Adriance call you? +Did he know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. 'Andy' is a noncommittal nickname."</p> + +<p>"All right; here is your card."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ransome watched the new employee +cross the floor, with a meditative consideration +of the uselessness of the shadow of the purple +without its comfortable substance; but he was +not especially surprised after the first moment. +Few wealthy men trouble themselves about the +distant branches of their families, and babies +are frequently named after them by hopeful +kinsmen.</p> + +<p>At the other end of the subterranean chamber +where trucks rolled in and out, piloted by +weather-beaten chauffeurs and loaded with +heavy packages and bales by perspiring porters, +a little man in a derby hat and shirt sleeves +was in command. With him the matter passed +still more easily for the stranger.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?" he shrilled in a peculiarly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span> +flat treble voice, across the uproar of thudding +weight, rolling wheels and panting machinery. +"Andy? Well, take out number thirty-five. +Mike, Mike! Where is that—that Russian? +Here, Mike, you are to go with number +thirty-five. Bring your truck in for its load +and get your directions from the boss there, +Andy. Report when you get back."</p> + +<p>A huge figure lounged across the electric-lighted +space toward Adriance; a pair of mild +brown eyes gazed down at him from under a +shock of red hair.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're new," pronounced the heavy +accent of Russian Mike; "I guess I show you?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," Adriance cordially +accepted the patronizing kindness. He found +time to marvel at the readiness of his own smile +since last night, and at the response it evoked +from these strangers. "I don't know where to +find thirty-five yet, or who is the boss."</p> + +<p>"I know," announced Mike, grandly comprehensive; +"you ride with me, Andy; I'll learn +you."</p> + +<p>So Andy of the trucks began his education.</p> + +<p>A motor-truck is not a high-priced pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> +car. Nor is the trucking department of a large +factory professional in its courtesy. Tony +Adriance learned a great many things in breathless +sequence. And he never had been quite so +much interested by anything in his life—except +his newly-made wife. The men were not gentle, +but they were merry. They shouted gaily back +and forth at each other with a humor of their +own. When Tony stalled his unfamiliar motor +there was much unpolished witticism at his expense; +but also a neighbor jumped down to crank +the machine for him, and another sprang up +to the seat beside the new man and gave him a +score of valuable hints in a dozen terse sentences. +When he finally drove up the incline +into the street, he found that Russian Mike appeared +to have a complete map of the Jersey +City river front engraved on his otherwise blank +intelligence and proved as willingly efficient a +guide on the streets as in the factory. If the +difficulties were more numerous than the novice +had anticipated and the work harder, these +things were more than offset by the unexpected +comradeship he encountered.</p> + +<p>All day, amid the steady press of events, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></span> +thought of his wife lay warm at the core of his +heart. His love was matched only by his deep +wonder at the thing which had befallen him. +The exultation of successful escape was strong +upon him; escape from loathsome bonds, from +complicated problems his innately simple mind +detested, above all, from the guidance of other +people. He and Elsie were alone as no distance +around the world could have made them. He +had come to a place in life where he was not a +boy to be governed, but master in his own right. +A heat of pride had burned his face when he +had answered "Yes" to the superintendent's +question: "Married?" Decidedly he meant to +stay in the home and the factory of his first +adventure, if possible.</p> + +<p>On his first trip he made an excuse to stop +at a stationer's, where he wrote for himself a +recommendation signed by Anthony Adriance, +Junior. The ruse amused him; he found himself +childishly ready to be amused. When he +brought the truck in from the last journey of +the day he presented this letter to Mr. Ransome, +who read and returned it with a nod of content.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right; to-morrow at seven," he said +briefly.</p> + +<p>He ached in every unaccustomed muscle bent +to toil when he strode up the hill at dusk, his +day's work over. But he was no more affected +by that than a boy on his first day of camping—it +was part of the sport. Because he was learning +unselfishness he felt more anxiety as to how +Elsie had got through the day. Housework in +the rather primitive cottage was a different thing +from caring for Holly Masterson in his luxurious +pink-and-gold nursery. Would he find her +discouraged, tired—perhaps cross? He smiled +audacious confidence in his ability to caress her +into good humor, but he wondered rather uneasily +whether his wages would support a maid +should Elsie demand one as necessary. He was +utterly unused to the practical apportionment of +money.</p> + +<p>There were new curtains draped across the +lighted windows of the little red house. As +he turned up the ridiculous plank walk he saw +a very diminutive kitten seated on the window-sill +inside washing its face. And then he heard +a fresh, smooth voice singing the drollest little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> +air he ever had heard in his musical experience—a +minor grotesquerie distinctive as the flavor +of <i>bouillabaisse orléanais</i>. He opened the door +and his wife laughed at him across the bright +room, flushed with fire heat, dainty in her lavender +frock and white ruffled apron, arrested with +a steaming tureen uplifted in her little hands.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she had doubted how he would come +home from that first day of work. For just a +moment they drank full reassurance from each +other's eyes; then Adriance was across the +room.</p> + +<p>"Put it down or I'll spill it!"</p> + +<p>"Sir, this is a soup extraordinary! Would +you overturn your supper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for this," said Adriance, and kissed +her soft mouth.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, can one be <i>too</i> happy and affront +the fates?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"We can go on and on, and nothing will +happen!"</p> + +<p>"Please God!" said Tony Adriance with perfect +reverence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">{142}</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is not a wonderful adventure now; it is +just life?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I say—I wish that van-driver +could see me now—the one I told you about last +night."</p> + +<p>"The butcher gave me the kitten, Anthony."</p> + +<p>"Of course he did; any man would give you +all he had. What were you singing when I +came in?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know? I know a thousand +bits of song and a thousand stories, and they +march in and out of my head. Our dinner is +spoiling, Mr. Adriance."</p> + +<p>"I love you!"</p> + +<p>"I dislike you!" she mocked him.</p> + +<p>There was no one in New York who would +have quite recognized either Anthony or Elsie +Adriance in these two children at play together.</p> + +<p>"Next Saturday evening I want you to take +me shopping, please," she told him when they +were seated at supper.</p> + +<p>"Enchanted; but why Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"Because you will have your wages then, +naturally. We need more dishes, and a casserole,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> +and a ribbon for the kitten, and—thousands +of things."</p> + +<p>"Shall I have wealth enough?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty; we are going to the 5-10-20 cent +store."</p> + +<p>"I thought those were the prices of melodrama +on the East Side."</p> + +<p>"Wait. You may find the event even tragic, +if I want too many seductive articles," she +cautioned him. "But let us not talk of mere +things—aren't you going to tell me about your +day?"</p> + +<p>"I am. But it was a day like any other +workingman's, I suppose; nothing happened."</p> + +<p>"Did you want anything to happen? I imagined——"</p> + +<p>"All I want," said Tony Adriance fervently, +"is to be left alone, with you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Luck in the House.</span></h2> + + +<p>Nothing did happen. None of the traditionary +usual experiences overtook the two in the +little red house, as November ran out and December +stormed in like a lusty viking from northern +seas, attended by tremendous winds and early +snow.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the marriage of Anthony +Adriance, Junior, somehow escaped the sensational +journals, as a pleasing theme. There were +no headlines announcing: "Son of a millionaire +weds a nursemaid." No reporters discovered +the house on the Palisades, to photograph its +diminutive Gothic front for Sunday specials. +Adriance had written a letter of explanation, so +far as explanation might be, to his father. That +was on the morning of his marriage, and as he +had given no address, naturally he had received +no answer. There were no reproaches and no +pursuit.</p> + +<p>Nor was Tony Adriance gnawed by vain regrets.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> +According to every rule of romance and +reason, he should have suffered from at least +brief seasons of repining; at least have been +twinged by memories of things foregone, yet +desired. But he felt nothing of the kind. Masculine +independence was aroused in him, and +held reign in riotous good spirits. With a boy's +triumphant bravado he faced down cold and +hard work, delighting in the victory. He rose +early and built Elsie's fires before permitting +her to rise, while she sat up protesting in the +four-posted bed as he bullied and loved and +mastered her. He walked two miles to and from +work morning and evening, and drove his big +motor-truck eight hours a day. Moreover, he +gained weight on the régime, and the springing +step of a man in training. He never had suspected +it, but his whole body had craved outdoors +and employment of its forces; Nature had +built him for work, not idleness. The atmosphere +in which he had been reared was, by a +trick of temperament, foreign to him.</p> + +<p>"I'm plain vulgarian," he laughed to his +wife one morning as he started to work. "I +would rather drive one of my father's trucks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span> +and come home to your pork-chops, than I would +to dawdle around his house and dine with a +strong man standing behind my chair to save +me the fatigue of putting sugar in my own coffee. +Are you going to have some of those jolly little +apple-fritters with butter and cinnamon on them +for supper to-night?"</p> + +<p>She made a tantalizing face at him. It was +two days before Christmas, and so cold that +her lips and cheeks were stung poppy-bright as +she stood in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Of course not; now I know that you want +them. We will have cold meat. What are you +going to give me for my stocking, Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"A cold-meat fork," he countered promptly. +"How did you know I meant to give you anything?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't," she calmly told him. "But I am +going to give you something, so I thought it +only kind to remind you."</p> + +<p>He swung himself easily over the railing +and smothered her in an embrace made bear-like +by his shaggy coat.</p> + +<p>"The chauffeur's peerless bride shall not +weep," he soothed her. "For ten days her ruby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span> +stomacher has been ordered by her devoted husband. +Now let your Romeo depart, or his pay +will get docked next Saturday."</p> + +<p>She lingered in his arms an instant, her shining +dark hair pressed against the rough darkness +of his cheap fur coat.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, don't they ever notice your +name, down there? Didn't they ever ask about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Surely! The first day I went in, the +superintendent asked if I were related to Mr. +Adriance. I told him yes, a poor relation. True, +isn't it? He was satisfied, anyhow. They call +me Andy, down there."</p> + +<p>"Andy!" she essayed experimentally. +"Andy! It goes pretty well."</p> + +<p>They laughed together, then he gently pushed +her toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Go in," he bade, with his commanding manner; +the manner Elsie had taught him. "You +will take a royal cold out here, and then what +should I do for my meals? I have to eat if I +am to labor; besides, I like my food. What did +you call those cakes we had this morning?"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Belle cala, tout chaud!</i>'" she intoned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span> +soft street-cry of old New Orleans' breakfast +hours, her voice catching the quaint, enticing +inflections of those dark-skinned vendors who +once loitered their sunny rounds freighted with +fragrant baskets. "Some day I will show you +what I call a city, sir; if you'll take me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take you anywhere, but I'll not let you +go as far as the next corner. Now, go in-doors, +and good-bye."</p> + +<p>She obeyed him so far as to draw back into +the warm doorway. There, sheltered, she stayed +to watch him swinging down the hill through +the gray winter morning. It was nearly seven +o'clock, but the sun had not yet warmed or gilded +the atmosphere. Bleakness reigned, except in +the hearts of the man and woman.</p> + +<p>They had been married two months. Elsie +Adriance slowly closed the door and turned to +the uncleared breakfast table. But presently she +left the dishes she had begun to assemble, and +walked to one of the rear windows. There she +leaned, gazing where Anthony never gazed: +toward the gray-and-white stateliness of New +York, across the ice-dotted river. She contemplated +the city, not with defiance or challenge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> +but with the steady-eyed gravity, of one measuring +an enemy.</p> + +<p>Two months, and the victory was still with +her! Yet, she warned herself, surely some day +New York would call. She never quite could forget +that. She herself was not unlike a city preparing +for defence, feverishly grasping at every +stone to build her ramparts. How she envied +Lucille Masterson her beauty, the elder Adriance +his wealth, since those possessions might have +bound Anthony closer to her! She recalled Mrs. +Masterson's exquisite costumes, colored like +flowers and as delightful to the touch; the costly +perfumes that made all her belongings fragrant; +the studied coquetry that kept her like +Cleopatra, never customary or stale. To oppose +all this, Anthony's wife had only—her hearth. +For she never would keep her husband against +his will; Elsie Adriance never would claim as a +right what she had held as a gift.</p> + +<p>The kitten, a black-and-white midget suggestive +of a Coles-Phillips drawing, rubbed insistently +against the girl's foot. She picked up +the living toy and nestled its furry warmth beneath +her chin, as she turned in quest of milk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span> +She thrust forebodings from her mind with resolute +will. It was too soon to think of these +things; Anthony loved her, Anthony was content.</p> + +<p>She had no conception of how fervently glad +Anthony was to be rid of harassing thoughts +and complications, or how gratefully the luxury +of peace enfolded him and dwarfed the mere +physical luxuries of idleness and lavish expenditure. +Nor, being a woman, did she sufficiently +value his pride in the possessions he had bought +with his own labor. Tony Adriance never had +noticed the table service in his father's house; +he had been known to overturn a whole tray of +translucent coffee-cups set in lace-fine silver +work, without a second glance at the destruction. +But he knew every one of the cheap, heavy dishes +he and Elsie had added to their equipment on +Saturday evening shopping orgies at a five-and-ten-cent +store. Knew, and admired them! When +Elsie would call from her "kitchen corner;" +"Bring me the Niagara platter, honey," he could +locate that ceramic atrocity at a glance. And +when he let fall the Whistler bread-plate—it had +a nocturnal, black-lined landscape effect in its +centre—he was truly grieved. Indeed, it was he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> +who selected their china, Elsie's taste being inclined +toward a simplicity he refused as monotonous. +He never had realized the pleasure of +purchasing until he went shopping with his wife, +chose with her, overruled her or indulged her +in some fancy, then drew out his newly-received +wage and paid, magnificent.</p> + +<p>He could not have explained his emotions +to Elsie. But his candid delight in those expeditions +came to her memory, as she poured the +kitten's milk into a saucer enamelled with blue +forget-me-nots. She lifted her head and again +glanced toward the distant city; but this time +she smiled with certain triumph. He was her +husband; better still, he was as eagerly her playmate +as any lonely boy who first finds a chum. +She knew Lucille Masterson did not possess the +art of comradeship among her talents; it was an +art too unselfish.</p> + +<p>"When he begins to tire of just playing this +way," she half-unconsciously addressed the kitten, +"we will find something else. There will +always be something for us to think of, together. +It will come when it is needed. Perhaps——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span></p> + +<p>Arrested, her breath failed speech. It was +as if her own words had thrown open a door +before which she faltered, her eyes sun-dazzled, +yet glimpsing a wide horizon.</p> + +<p>Soothed by her silent neighborhood, the kitten +finished lapping its milk and went to sleep +against her skirt. But the girl stood still for a +long time, steadying her heart, which seemed +to her to be filling like a cup held under a clear +fountain.</p> + +<p>Later in the day a boy brought wreaths and +sprays of holly to the door. Elsie bought recklessly, +so Adriance came home that night to a +house Yule-gay with scarlet and green, spicy +with the cinnamon fragrance of the apple-fritters, +and holding a mistress who showed him a +Christmas face of merry content.</p> + +<p>"I could not wait two days," she explained +to him. "We'll begin now and work up to it +gradually."</p> + +<p>But after all, Christmas morning came as a +surprise, and achieved a final defeat of doubts +and forebodings that drove them out of sight for +many a day. For, kissing his wife awake at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> +dawn, Anthony made his gift first, forestalling +hers.</p> + +<p>"You never had an engagement ring," he +reminded her. "I'll have to make a tremendous +record as a husband to live down my blunders +as a fiancé! Here, let me put it on for you. +What clever dimples you've got in your fingers! +I noticed them our first night here, remember?"</p> + +<p>She frankly cried in her great surprise and +passionate joy in his thought of her. It really +was a spectacular ring, and glittered bravely in +the early light; an oval of dark-red stones like +a shield set above her wedding ring.</p> + +<p>"They're only garnets," he stilled her protest +of extravagance. "But they are the color of +rubies; and the promise of them. Don't—please +don't! Come, what have you got for me? Give +it up."</p> + +<p>The diversion succeeded. Laughing before +her eyes were dry, she answered:</p> + +<p>"He is in the wood-box. I had to keep him +in the house where it was warm, and I was so +afraid you would hear him and spoil the surprise. +But he was as good as possible; he never +said one word. Open the lid, dear."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span></p> + +<p>"He?" echoed her husband. "Him?"</p> + +<p>The wood-box yielded him; a small, jovial, +bandy-legged puppy.</p> + +<p>"He is <i>almost</i> a Boston bull," Elsie explained +conscientiously. "If he had been quite +one, I couldn't have afforded to buy him. But +he is a love. Anthony, he is the watch-dog, you +know."</p> + +<p>Finding both faces within reach, as he hung +over Anthony's arm, the puppy licked them with +fond impartiality.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Masterson Takes Tea</span></h2> + + +<p>It was the day after Christmas that Adriance +was sent over to New York with his motor-truck, +for the first time since he had become that +massive vehicle's pilot. His destination was in +Brooklyn, so that he had the entire city to cross, +and lights were commencing to twinkle here +and there through the gray of the short winter +afternoon when he turned homeward.</p> + +<p>The experience had not been without a novel +interest. Holiday traffic crowded the streets; +traffic officers, tired and chilled by a biting east +wind, were not patient. Adriance chose Fifth +Avenue for his route up-town with the naturalness +of long custom, without reflecting upon the +greater freedom of travel he would have found +on one of the dingy streets usually followed by +such vehicles as his. However, the difficulties +exhilarated him. Andy of the truck could not +but wonder how the policeman who roughly +ordered him away from the entrance of the Park<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span> +might have phrased that request if he had +known that the intruder was Tony Adriance, +"paper, you know!" Perhaps, because of this +wonder, his cheerful grin drew a sour smile +from the officer.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know you've not got a limousine +there? You from the woods?" came the not ill-natured +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Worse than that: from Jersey," Adriance +shot back. "All right; I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"Plain streets for yours; round the circle," +was the direction, which also implied a release.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Adriance called acknowledgment, +as he obeyed.</p> + +<p>The bulky figure beside the chauffeur stirred.</p> + +<p>"You got a nerve," commented the man, his +slow, heavy voice tinged with admiration. "I +seen guys pulled fer less, Andy."</p> + +<p>Adriance laughed. He and his big assistant +were very good friends, after weeks of sharing +the truck's seat. The chauffeur appeared a +stripling by comparison with the man lounging +beside him, huge arms folded across thick chest. +"Mike," as he was known to his fellow-workers, +was a Russian peasant. His upbringing in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> +Hoboken slum had fixed his patriotism and language, +but had left his physique that of his inheritance. +His reddish-yellow head was set on +a massive neck whose base his open shirt showed +to be covered with a red growth of hair extending +down over his chest. His large features +and mild, slow-moving eyes, his heavy, placid +manner of speech were absurdly alien to the +colloquial language that he spoke. Adriance +knew his helper had been an employee of the factory +for ten years, but he did not know that Mike +was always assigned to a new chauffeur until +the stranger proved himself trustworthy. Mike +was dull, but he was stolidly honest. Valuable +boxes or packages were not reported "lost" +from trucks under his care. Adriance had no +idea of the truth that "Russian Mike" actually +had determined the permanence of his position +in his father's great mill.</p> + +<p>"If I cannot go through the Park, I'll go +back to the avenue," Adriance declared, when +the turning had been negotiated. "I want gayety, +Michael; boulevard gayety! Four o'clock +on Fifth Avenue—shall a poor workingman be +deprived of the sight? It is true that we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> +too far uptown, but the principle is the same. +You agree with me?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't nothin' to me," averred the magnificent +guardian, shifting to a new position with +an indolent movement that swelled the muscles +under his flannel shirt until the fabric strained. +His glance at his companion was mildly indulgent.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But it will be, next time; that +is, if you do not die of pneumonia after taking +this drive with your coat wide open. Appreciation +will grow on you. What do you think of +that girl in gray, in the limousine? Pretty? I +used to go to school with her, Michael; dancing +school."</p> + +<p>The Slavic brown eyes became humorous.</p> + +<p>"Fact," Adriance met the incredulity. "And +now she doesn't recognize me; and neither of us +cares."</p> + +<p>The uplifted hand of another traffic officer +halted the long lines of vehicles. Three deep +from the curb on either side, so that the street +was solidly filled, automobiles, carriages, green +and yellow busses and ornate delivery-cars +stopped in a close, orderly mass. Adriance's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> +truck was next to the sidewalk, in obedience to +the rule for slow-moving vehicles. As his laughing +voice answered Mike, his tone raised to carry +across the roar of sound about them, a woman +who had emerged from one of the shops stopped +abruptly. Her glance quested along the rows, +to rest upon Adriance with eager attention. A +moment later, the man started at the sound of +his own name, spoken beside him.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Tony. And aren't you—rather +out of place?"</p> + +<p>Momentarily dumb, he looked down into the +large, cool eyes of Lucille Masterson. She did +not smile, but faced his regard with a composure +that made his embarrassment a fault. Against +the white fur of her stole was fastened a knot +of pink-and-white sweet peas; beside them her +face showed as softly tinted, and artificially +posed, as the flowers. Beside the wheel of the +huge truck, she appeared smaller and more +fragile than Adriance remembered her. Without +the slightest cause he felt himself a culprit +surprised by her. He had all the sensations of +a deserter confronted with the heartlessly abandoned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to speak to me?" she +queried, when he remained voiceless. "I have +missed you, Tony."</p> + +<p>He hastily aroused himself.</p> + +<p>"Of course! I mean—you are very kind. I—we +have been out of town."</p> + +<p>Feeling the utter idiocy into which he was +stumbling, he checked himself. The current of +traffic was flowing on once more, leaving his +machine stranded against the curb; made fast, +as it were, by the white-gloved hand Mrs. Masterson +had laid upon the wheel.</p> + +<p>Without heeding his incoherence, she looked +at a tiny watch on her wrist, half-hidden by her +wide, furred sleeve. With her movement a drift +of fragrance was set afloat on the thick, city air.</p> + +<p>"I want you to take me to tea," she announced, +with her accustomed imperativeness. +"I have things to say to you. Let your man take +your car home."</p> + +<p>In spite of his exasperation, Adriance +laughed. He was aware of the staring admiration +which held the big man beside him intent +upon the beautiful woman; he had heard the +greedy intake of breath with which the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">{161}</a></span> +absorbed the perfume shaken from her daintiness, +and could guess the effect of <i>Essence Enivrante</i> +upon untutored nostrils. But for all that, +he could not imagine Russian Mike obeying the +order proposed.</p> + +<p>"You see, he isn't my man," he excused +himself from compliance. "Thank you very +much, but it is not possible."</p> + +<p>"Then let him wait for you. Really, Tony, +I think you owe me a little courtesy."</p> + +<p>Adriance flushed before the rebuke. He +never had seen Lucille Masterson since that +rough farewell of their final quarrel. He had +left her, to marry another woman inside of the +next thirty-six hours. He always had been at +his weakest with Mrs. Masterson; he slipped now +into his old mistake of temporizing.</p> + +<p>"I am not dressed for a tea-room," he deprecated. +"Otherwise, I should be delighted."</p> + +<p>Her eyes glinted. Grasping the slight concession, +she leaned toward Adriance's assistant +with her brilliant, arrogant smile.</p> + +<p>"You will watch the car for Mr. Adriance, +just a few moments, will you not?" she appealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">{162}</a></span> +"I have something of importance to say to him. +I should be much obliged."</p> + +<p>The white-gloved hand slipped forward and +left a bank note in the hairy fist. Dazed, Mike +vaguely jerked his cap in salute, still staring at +the woman. Neither money nor beauty might +have lured him to an actual breach of duty, but +this was the last trip of the day and the truck +was empty. It could not matter if the return +were delayed half an hour; a belated ferryboat +might lose so much time. Moreover, he was +not only willing, but anxious, to do Andy a favor, +and the bill in his clutch assured a glorious +Saturday night.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he mumbled, with a grin of shyness +like a colossal child's.</p> + +<p>"Come, Tony," directed Mrs. Masterson.</p> + +<p>Because he saw nothing else to do, Tony +reluctantly swung himself down to the pavement +beside her.</p> + +<p>"I can only stay for a word," he essayed +revolt. "It is hardly worth while to go anywhere. +We should have to go find some place +where these clothes would pass and where no +one knew us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">{163}</a></span></p> + +<p>"On the contrary! We must go where you +are so well-known that your dress does not matter," +she contradicted him. "The Elizabeth +Tea-room is just here, and we used to go there +often."</p> + +<p>He could think of no objection to the proposal. +Presently he found himself following +his captor into the pretty, yellow-and-white tea-room.</p> + +<p>As the Elizabeth affected an English atmosphere +and had not adopted the <i>thé dansant</i>, the +place was not overfull. The quaintly-gowned +waitress greeted them with a murmur of recognition +and led the way to a table without a glance +at the chauffeur's attire. Mrs. Masterson +ordered something; an order which Adriance +seconded without having heard it. He was recovering +his poise, and marvelling at himself +for coming here no less than at Lucille for bringing +him. What could they have to say to each +other, now? The scented warmth of the room +brought to his realization the cold in which he +had left Mike to wait, and he was nipped by +remorse.</p> + +<p>It was a consequence of his education among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">{164}</a></span> +people who never considered that narrowness of +convention which they designated as middle-class, +that Adriance had no sense of disloyalty +either to Elsie or Fred Masterson in being here. +On the contrary, the knowledge of his marriage +would have enabled him to welcome frankly +either of the two had they chanced to enter and +find him. It was as if his assured position chaperoned +the situation. But, truly masculine, since +he no longer loved Lucille Masterson he detested +being with her. He resented the acute discomfort +he felt in her presence.</p> + +<p>She was drawing off her gloves with a slowness +that irritated him as an affectation; he +thought the artificial perfection of her hands +hideous as a waxwork. They were not really +a good shape, nor small, but merely blanched +very white and manicured to a glistening illusion. +And he saw with disgust that she wore a +ring he once had given her because she made it +plain to him that the costly gift was expected. +He knew she had lied to her husband as to the +giver; "Tony" had been startled and half-awakened +from his hazy content by that discovery +at the time. Now he looked at the bulky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">{165}</a></span> +pearl set around with diamonds and recalled the +modest garnets he had given Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, but I haven't long to stay," +he said. "You spoke of something important to +discuss."</p> + +<p>"Did I?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!"</p> + +<p>She studied him with open curiosity.</p> + +<p>"You want to go back to that wagon with the +gorilla of a man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Are you still very much married, Tony?" +she questioned maliciously.</p> + +<p>His eyes blazed, then chilled. Her lack of +finesse had led her to a final mistake.</p> + +<p>"You forget that my wife is an unfashionable +woman. I am still happily married," he +retorted.</p> + +<p>"How—romantic!"</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>"Still, two months, or is it three? Even +Fred and I lasted that long. You will not mind +my saying that you are a bit fickle, Tony. What +will you do when you grow bored? Or do you +believe that you never will? Elsie must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> +resources that I never suspected. Does she tell +you the story of—Monsieur Raoul, was it?"</p> + +<p>"She has others more pleasant. With Mrs. +Adriance boredom is not possible," he controlled +his anger to state. But he felt himself clumsy +and inadequate.</p> + +<p>The quaint little waitress was beside him, +and proceeded to her duty of service with exasperating +slowness and precision. She was a +pretty girl, in a butter-cup-yellow frock and +ruffled white cap and apron. Adriance became +conscious of his work-darkened hands, of a collar +that showed a day's accumulated dust, and other +signs that differentiated him from the usual idle +and dainty patrons of this place.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a bit seedy," corroborated Mrs. +Masterson, watching him with furtive acuteness. +She permitted herself an ironic smile. "Do +you not think it time you went home, and +changed?"</p> + +<p>He divined an innuendo, a <i>double entendre</i> +in the speech that he did not comprehend, yet +which enraged him. He wondered if she had +brought him here for the purpose of forcing +this contrast between his present life and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> +past, and so tainting him with discontent or +even regret of his marriage. If so, she had +failed. He merely visited his humiliation on +her, and found her beauty spoiled by her spitefulness.</p> + +<p>"I shall be home in an hour," he said. "And +of course I am anxious to be there, so you will +forgive my reminding you of whatever we have +to discuss."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course." She paused until their +attendant fluttered away through a swinging +door. "You are quite cured of me, aren't you, +Tony? Don't trouble about denying politely, +please. But it is lucky no one really knew about +us—I suppose you have not told?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Masterson!"</p> + +<p>She hushed the protest, laughing across the +spray of sweet-peas she had lifted against her +smooth red lips.</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well! But promise you +never will. Promise, Tony."</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary," he replied stiffly. +"But if you think it so, I give you my word."</p> + +<p>"Never to tell that I thought of marrying +you, whatever may happen?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">{168}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She dropped the sweet-peas and sat in silence +for a space, her gaze dwelling on him. Neither +of the two made any pretense of pouring the tea +cooling in the diminutive pots between them, or +of tasting the miniature sandwiches and cakes. +Months later, Adriance was to learn something +of Lucille Masterson's thoughts during that interval. +He himself thought of Russian Mike +waiting in the motor-truck, and that he would be +so late home that Elsie might be worried. He +had wanted to stop at a shop to buy a toy +bull-dog collar for his Christmas puppy, but +now that must be postponed. He was amazed +and infinitely angry at himself for yielding +so easily to Lucille's whim to bring him +here.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously he looked toward her with +open impatience in his glance. She responded +at once, with a shrug.</p> + +<p>"Go, by all means. Pray go, Tony. Am I +keeping you? I am not the kind of woman who +mourns, you know. Just remember that our episode +is not only closed, but locked, when we meet +again. Good-bye."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">{169}</a></span></p> + +<p>"And the important communication that I +was to hear?"</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten what I wanted to say. +Good-bye, Tony."</p> + +<p>Puzzled and angry, he rose, leaving on the +table twice the amount of the check, at which he +had not looked. Mrs. Masterson nodded an +acknowledgment of his grim salute. Her eyes +had a look of triumph, and as the girl in yellow +ushered him out, Adriance saw the other turn +with appetite to the sandwiches and tea.</p> + +<p>The east wind had grown stronger and its +current was thick with whirling particles of +snow. Darkness had come with the storm, turning +dusk into night. Adriance shivered and buttoned +his cheap fur coat as he hurried across +the wet, shining pavement. Mike aroused himself +with a grunt when the chauffeur swung up +into the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>"Swell dame, Andy!" he commented, staring +with heavy curiosity at the man pushing throttle +and spark. "I guess maybe you're a swell, too, +like a movie show I seen once?"</p> + +<p>Adriance stepped down again, to go forward +and crank the motor. He began to glimpse the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">{170}</a></span> +possible complications if Mike recounted this +adventure among his mates. He wondered, also, +if Lucille had noticed the name on the truck. +Altogether, he was in a vicious enough mood to +lie, and he did so.</p> + +<p>"No," he asserted flatly, when he had regained +his seat. "Don't be an idiot, Mike. I—used +to be employed by that lady."</p> + +<p>"Drive her automobile?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The explanation was accepted as satisfactory. +An intimate acquaintance with the etiquette +of intercourse between mistress and +chauffeur was not one of the examiner's accomplishments. +But the incident appealed to Mike +as romantic, and for him romance flowed from +one source only.</p> + +<p>"She looks like one of them actresses from +the movies," he averred, folding his huge arms +comfortably across his breast. "I guess she is, +maybe? I seen queens like her, there."</p> + +<p>"It is a good way to see them, if they are +like her," observed Adriance ruefully. He +laughed in spite of vexation. "Better stick to +the movie girls, Michael; it's safer! Now stop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">{171}</a></span> +talking to me; if this brute of a truck swerves +an inch in this slush, some pretty car is going to +feel as if an elephant had stepped on it."</p> + +<p>But the ill luck of that day was over. They +made a fast trip up-town and just caught a +ferry-boat on the point of leaving.</p> + +<p>After all, they were not to be noticeably late. +And since there would be no need of explanation, +it occurred to Adriance that he might not recount +to Elsie the tale of his discomfiture. He was +keenly ashamed of the poor rôle Lucille Masterson +had made him play. She had whistled +him to heel, and he had come with the meekness +of the well-trained. She had amused herself +with him as long as she chose, then dismissed +him, humiliated and helpless. He did not want +Elsie to picture her husband in that situation, +nor to find him still unable to say no to Mrs. +Masterson.</p> + +<p>By the time he had walked up the long hill +through a beating snow-storm, he was thoroughly +chilled and self-disgusted, desirous only +of shelter and peace. Both met him, when he +pushed open the door of his house and stepped +into the warm, bright room. When the door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> +closed behind him, he definitely shut outside the +image of Lucille Masterson.</p> + +<p>With a little rush Elsie came to meet him, +lifting her warm and rosy face for his kiss. +The puppy scrambled across the floor, uttering +staccato yelps of salute.</p> + +<p>"I've named our house," the girl announced +gleefully. "You know, we have named everything +else. Don't you like Alaric Cottage?"</p> + +<p>"I like the inside of it to-night, all right. +But why Alaric?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is so early-Gothic, of course. +You must appreciate our front porch, Anthony. +Oh, you <i>are</i> wet and cold! Hurry and change +your things—I have them all laid out—and I will +feed you, sir."</p> + +<p>So the matter passed for that time, and was +forgotten.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">{173}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Glowing Hearth</span></h2> + + +<p>Christened Noel, in honor of the day of his +arrival, the puppy thrived and grew toward +young doghood in a household atmosphere of +serene content. From Christmas to Easter the +days flowed by in an untroubled current of time. +Day after day, Anthony and Elsie Adriance grew +into closer and fuller companionship. The winter +was a hard and long one, but never dull to +them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/col03.jpg" width="362" height="500" alt="THE WINTER WAS HARD AND LONG, BUT NEVER DULL TO THEM" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE WINTER WAS HARD AND LONG, BUT NEVER DULL TO THEM</span> +</div> + +<p>They found so much to do. In return for +his reading to her, Elsie sometimes put out the +lamp and in the flickering firelight told him +quaint, grotesque legends of Creole and negro +lore. Her soft accents fell naturally into pâtois; +she was a born mimic, and interspersed fragments +of plaintive songs, old as the tragedy of +slavery or the romance of a pre-Napoleonic +France. Her voice could be drowsy as sunshine +on a still lagoon, or instinct with life as the ring +of a marching regiment's tread.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">{174}</a></span></p> + +<p>She taught him to play chess, too, with a +wonderful set of jade-and-ivory men produced +from among her few belongings.</p> + +<p>"Do you know these must be mighty valuable?" +Adriance exclaimed, the first time he saw +them.</p> + +<p>"I know they are mighty old," she mocked +his seriousness. "And I wouldn't sell them, so +the rest doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about them."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing very definite to tell." She +regarded him askance from the corner of a +laughing eye. "Can you bear the shock of hearing +that one of your wife's ancestors was suspected +of having secret relations with the notorious +LaFitte?"</p> + +<p>"Who was he?"</p> + +<p>"LaFitte was a pirate and freebooter, sir, +who had a stronghold below New Orleans, where +the mouth of the Mississippi widens into the +Gulf. Many a ship paid toll to him, many +curious prizes fell into his greedy hands; and +it was whispered that some of these strange, +foreign things mysteriously appeared in the +house of Martin Galvez. Negroes were heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">{175}</a></span> +to tell, with breath hushed and eyes rolling, of +a swift-sailing sloop, black of hull and rigged +in black canvas, lines, and all. It slipped up +the river at midnight and down again before +dawn, past all defences, they said—and its point +of landing was Colonel Galvez's wharf, ten miles +above the city. No one ever knew more than a +rumor that ran untraced like the black sloop. +But it was said the ivory-and-jade chessmen had +travelled by that craft, as had great-great-grandmother's +string of pink pearls which are painted +around her neck in her portrait. Loud and often +her husband laughed at the tales, inviting all +who chose to watch his wharf between sunset +and sunrise, any night. The chessmen, he declared, +were presented to him by a prince of +Cairo, whose enemies had betrayed him into the +hands of a slave-trader. The Egyptian noble's +dark skin and ignorance of Western speech had +made him a helpless victim; he faced the final +degradation of the lash when Colonel Galvez saw +and rescued him. His gratitude sent the pretty +playthings. As for the pink pearls, they came +from Vienna, by lawful purchase. At least, so +the worthy Colonel was fond of relating, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> +convincing detail, over his incomparable French +wines and Havana cigars."</p> + +<p>"But, what was truth? Which, I mean?" he +questioned.</p> + +<p>She shut her eyes in droll disclaimer.</p> + +<p>"How should I know? The pink pearls disappeared +before Josephine Galvez married Fairfax Murray, +sixty years ago. The chessmen +are dumb. But I know of many an old toy from +overseas, around our house still. Nothing of +great value! We are as poor as ecclesiastical +mice; the family wealth long ago fled down the +wind on the black sails of ill-luck. Yes, the +Murrays usually held poor hands at cards. Will +you move first, or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"You," he invited. He looked at her with +curiosity. "Why didn't you tell me before that +you were a princess in disguise? I never knew +you had an ancestor on record, and here you +have a procession of them. You're a funny +girl."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you don't like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you, why do you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Why</i> do you stay around?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She sang the very modern verse to him with +a mockery altogether tantalizing; and he upset<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">{177}</a></span> +all the chessboard in answering her properly.</p> + +<p>Little by little he learned a great deal about +her home; which, he discovered, had once been +the veritable home of the punctilious Maît' Raoul +Galvez of surprising memory. He made acquaintance +with her parents and her sisters, as Elsie +brought before him a living simulacra of each +one with her magician-like arts of description +and mimicry. There were five sisters, it appeared: +Lee, Roberta, Virginia, Clotilda and +Nicolette.</p> + +<p>"Mother named the first three of us and +Daddy the last three," she explained. "Wasn't +he right polite to wait so long? Mother is a +rebel Confederate up to this minute, while Daddy +altogether indorses the North and is a professional +delver in romantic history."</p> + +<p>"'Elsie' is not historical," he objected, much +diverted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my truly name is Elcise; I come before +Clotilda and Nicolette. But my grandfather insisted +upon calling me Elsie as long as he lived, +so in deference to him the first intention was +abandoned. Poor Daddy lost one of his turns, +after all. It happened very well, though! Elsie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> +is more practical, and I am the most practical +member of the whole family circle."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly! Lee married a dramatic +poet, who is also the editor of a newspaper," +she retorted upon his incredulity. "And one +who lets his two vocations interfere with one +another! Roberta has been engaged to an army +officer these five years. He is stationed in the +Philippines, where she is to join him and live +in some jungle with him whenever he is sufficiently +promoted to marry. Virginia is a beauty, +who has the entire college full of young men +vibrating around our house; and she declares +that she is going into a convent when she is +twenty-five. Clotilda and Nicolette are twin +babies of eleven years. They still have plenty +of time to do anything, you see. We were all +perfectly happy as we were, but it became really +necessary for someone to relieve Daddy, if only +by supporting herself and leaving more for the +others. So I began, and went as private secretary +and companion with the old lady of whom +I have told you. Wasn't that practical? Of +course, Lee's husband supports her, usually.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">{179}</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the spring that I came away, Daddy had +urged him to resign from the newspaper and +come home for six months in order to write a +poetic drama over which they both were enthusiastic. +No one expects it to make much money, +but, as Daddy said, we have always had enough +for dignified simplicity, and it should be our +duty as well as our glory to help Lee's husband +to fame."</p> + +<p>"Elsie's husband means to support her all +the time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I told you Elsie was practical. She +married sensibly."</p> + +<p>"Should you call it that?" doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"Her husband is quite kind to her, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Well, he is still in love. When that wears +off as she grows tired of feeding him, and ill-tempered——?"</p> + +<p>They laughed at one another across the +hearth. But presently Adriance became serious.</p> + +<p>"Elsie, I think that I should write to your +father. One does not snatch a man's daughter +in this barefaced fashion, without so much as a +word to him, in civilized lands. Why haven't I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">{180}</a></span> +thought of that before? And I should like to be +welcomed into your family, or at least tolerated +there. Do you suppose we might visit them, some +day when our finances permit? Or perhaps some +of my sisters-in-law might come to see us? +George, what a time we could have given those +girls with some of the money that I had, and +haven't!"</p> + +<p>His wife leaned toward him, her gray eyes +quite wet with her earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, there is nothing in the world that +would make me so happy as for you to write +home and tell them that I belong to you. I have +so <i>hoped</i> you would think of it!"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me to do so, long ago?" +he asked reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Now, how could I tell you a thing like that?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he wondered, densely.</p> + +<p>She made an expressive gesture with her +little hands, resigning the hopeless task of +explanation.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. But I shall be so glad! You +see, they do not know that I am married at all. +I have not dared tell them, because they have +such stately, quaint ideas that they would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> +profoundly offended if you did not write yourself. +They would consider it a great slight to +me. So I have just waited."</p> + +<p>He gazed at her in utter marvel at such patience.</p> + +<p>"Never do it again," he requested. "Please +remember that you have deigned to wed a poor, +dull animal who needs your constant guidance. +Even yet, I have failed to grasp the delicate +point of your not setting me to work at this weeks +ago. But bring the writing things and sit beside +me as expert critic; we will attend to this +before we sleep."</p> + +<p>They did so; and were drawn still closer together +by the fulfillment of that act of courtesy +and consideration which they unwittingly had +neglected so long.</p> + +<p>The warm, gay intimacy of their life together +sank deeper into the fibre of both, as the days +went by. They found a comradeship of minds +as well as hearts, never failing in novelty and +delight to the man.</p> + +<p>"I never before had an intimate friend," he +said, one morning, with a wondering realization +of the fact. "I knew so many people that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">{182}</a></span> +never guessed it, Elsie, but I've been lonely all +my life. I can't see how I could be any happier +than I am now."</p> + +<p>They had just risen from the breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>Across it Elsie met her husband's eyes; her +own infinitely wise, splendidly happy as his, yet +touched with that delicate raillery which caressed +and laughed at him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" she dissented. "Yes, Anthony."</p> + +<p>Puzzled, he searched her meaning in her +shining gaze.</p> + +<p>"I could be happier?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. <i>We</i> could be."</p> + +<p>"But——?"</p> + +<p>She came around the table and told him the +answer, putting her hands into his. She did not +speak shyly, but proudly, with frank courage +and comradeship.</p> + +<p>An hour later, when Adriance went down the +long hill to his day's work, he carried himself +with a dignity new as the blended exaltation and +dread that paled his face. Once he stopped in +the snapping March wind to bare his head and +draw a full, deep breath, looking up at the bright-blue +sky where tufts of white cloud sailed. Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">{183}</a></span> +the season was so far advanced, new-fallen +snow overlay road and hills, so that Adriance +seemed to himself as standing between two surfaces +of pure, glinting brightness. His thoughts +were only now becoming articulate, yet a sense of +final change had settled through him. His manhood +had come to full dignity. Now he knew +what he had done when he snatched Elsie Murray +out of her cross-current of life and took her +for himself. He had found love like a jewel on +the road; content had reared a shelter for his +inexperience. Now, he stood as protector and +shelter as long as he should live for the weaker +ones who were his. And with responsibility, +ambition sprang fully grown to life and challenged +him. Was his wife to rank as a +chauffeur's wife, and nothing more? Was their +child to be reared in that place, and he to give +the two nothing better? Anthony Adriance +passed his glance, with his father's cold accuracy +of appraisal, over the great factory lying far +down at the foot of the cliffs, where he himself +was awaited to drive a truck.</p> + +<p>Presently he went on, down the road. But +he went differently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">{184}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Upper Trail</span></h2> + + +<p>Adriance had not spent half a year in the +mill, even in the limited capacity of chauffeur, +without observing many things. He had come +to recognize flaws in that smooth-running mechanism +of which he was a part. Might he not find +in this fact an opportunity? He saw much that +he himself, given authority, might do to promote +efficiency. He did not delude himself with +the idea that he could go into any factory as an +efficiency expert; he did see that here he might +fairly earn and ask for a salary that would give +Elsie more luxuries than she had even known in +her own home and more than he himself had +learned to desire. After all, there had been no +quarrel between his father and himself. When +the young man had chosen a course that he knew +to be disagreeable to the older, he simply had +withdrawn from their life together as a matter +of courtesy and self-respect. Since he no longer +gave what was expected of Tony Adriance, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">{185}</a></span> +could not take Tony's privileges; now however, +knowledge of Elsie had changed the situation. +His father had only to meet his wife, Anthony +felt assured, for his marriage to explain itself. +Even if Mr. Adriance were disappointed by the +simplicity of his son's choice and ambitions, +even if he preferred the brilliant Mrs. Masterson +to the serene young gentlewoman as a daughter-in-law, +why should there be rancor between the +two men? For the first time it occurred to +Adriance that his father might be lonely and welcome +a reconciliation. They never had been intimate, +but they had been companions, or at least +pleasant acquaintances. The house on the Drive +had not contained only servants, as now it must—servants +who were merely servants, too, not +the faithful, devoted, tactful servitors of romance, +but the average modern hireling. The +house-keeper engaged and dismissed them and +was herself a shadowy automaton, who appeared +only to receive special orders and render +monthly accounts. For any atmosphere of home +created in the house, the Adriances might as +well have been established in a hotel. Anthony +wondered if even Elsie could leaven that dense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">{186}</a></span> +mass of formality, or if her art was too delicate, +too subtle a combination of heart and mind and +personality to affect such conditions. He could +not be certain. He could well imagine her, daintily +gowned and demurely self-possessed, as mistress +of that household; but he could not imagine +the household itself as altered very much or made +less stupidly ponderous by her presence. He +had not thought of this before, but now he could +not think his pleasure would be quite the same +if they sat together in state in that drawing-room +he knew so well, while she told him the tales he +had learned to delight in. It could not be quite +the same as a hearth of their own, and his pipe, +burning with a coarse, outrageous energy, expressed +in volumes of smoke, while Elsie leaned +forward, little hands animated, gray eyes sparkling, +and mimicked or drolled or sang as the +mood swayed them or the tale demanded. He +knew that he himself could never read aloud with +enthusiasm and verve if Mr. Adriance listened +with amused criticism. No, Anthony realized +with some astonishment that he did not want to +take his wife home.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the thing must be done. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">{187}</a></span> +a duty. He could not selfishly continue in the +way he liked so well. He must consider Elsie +and the third who was to join their circle. He +must pick up for them what he had thrown aside +for himself.</p> + +<p>But he refused to go back to his father like a +defeated incompetent to plead for his inheritance. +His pride recoiled from the certainty +that his father would so regard his return; there +must be a middle course. At the great gate to +the factory yard he paused to survey again the +enormous buildings with their teeming life. In +more than one sense this was his workshop.</p> + +<p>There was more than the usual hubbub and +confusion in the shipping-room when he went +down the stone incline to that vast subterranean +apartment. The little wizened man in horn-rimmed +spectacles, who vibrated around his long +platform, checking rolls and bales and boxes as +they were loaded into the trucks, had already the +appearance of wearied distraction. His thin hair +was flattened by perspiration across his knobby +forehead, although it was not yet eight o'clock +and freezing draughts of air swept the place as +the doors swung unceasingly open and shut.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">{188}</a></span> +Groups of grinning chauffeurs and porters +loitered in corners or behind pillars, eying +with enjoyment or indifference, as the case +might be, the little man's bustling energy and +anxiety.</p> + +<p>This condition had already lasted two days, +like a veritable festival of confusion. Adriance +had watched it with the utter indifference of his +mates, merely attending to the duties assigned +him and leaving Mr. Cook to solve his own perplexities; +but this morning he hesitated beside +the fiery, streaming little man. The little man +caught sight of his not unsympathetic face and +hailed him, calling through the tumult of cars, +rattling hand-trucks, pushed by blue-shirted +porters, and the complex din of the place.</p> + +<p>"Here, Andy—you know New York, how long +should I allow this man to go to the Valparaiso +dock, unload and get back? Three hours?"</p> + +<p>"Two," responded Adriance, mounting the +long platform beside his chief.</p> + +<p>"Can't be done," the chauffeur of the waiting +truck sullenly contradicted.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You ain't allowing for the ferry running<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">{189}</a></span> +across here only every half hour, nor for the +traffic over on the other side."</p> + +<p>The tone was insolent, and Adriance answered +sharply, unconsciously speaking as Tony +rather than as Andy:</p> + +<p>"You don't know your business when you +propose going that way. Go down the Jersey +side here where the way is open, and take the +down-town ferry, that runs every ten minutes. +And come back by the same route."</p> + +<p>"Who are you——" the chauffeur began, but +was curtly checked by Mr. Cook:</p> + +<p>"Do as you're told, Pedersen, and if I catch +you at more tricks like that you're fired. You've +got two hours. Next! Herman, get your truck +loaded and take the same route and time; do +you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but——"</p> + +<p>"Get out, and the two of you come in together."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Cook;" said Adriance, his +glance taking appraisal of the second truck; +"Herman has a cargo of heavy stuff, he can +hardly get it unloaded in as short a time as +Pedersen."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">{190}</a></span></p> + +<p>The little man turned on him wrathfully.</p> + +<p>"Can't? Can't? They've got to get back for +second trips."</p> + +<p>"Then give him two extra helpers."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook stared at him through his spectacles, +then turned and shouted the order. When +he turned back he dried his forehead and relieved +himself by a burst of confidence.</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of stuff to go to South America +by the boat sailing at three o'clock. A rush +order, and just when we are rushed with other +deliveries; and Ransome is home sick. <i>I</i> never +send out the trucks; <i>I</i> don't know when they +should come in or how they should go. I've got +all my own work checking over every shipment +that goes out, too. It's too much, it can't be +done. The chauffeurs are playing me, I know +they are. Look at the stuff left over that ought +to have been got out yesterday, not moved yet! +They tell me lies about the motors breaking +down; I know they are lies; why should half the +trucks in the place break down just when Ransome +is away? But I can't prove it."</p> + +<p>"Why not put a mechanic in a light machine +to go out to any truck that breaks down, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">{191}</a></span> +give orders that any man whose truck stops is +to 'phone in here at once?" suggested Adriance.</p> + +<p>This time Mr. Cook regarded him steadily +for a full minute. Seizing the advantage of the +other man's attention, Adriance struck again:</p> + +<p>"Would you like me to take Mr. Ransome's +place for the day? I know both cities pretty +well and I know your men. One of the other men +can take out my truck; Russian Mike, for instance."</p> + +<p>"He can't drive."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, he drives very well; I +taught him myself this winter."</p> + +<p>The little man jerked a telephone receiver +from the wall beside him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Goodwin! Cook, sir. I've got a man +here to fill Ransome's place for the present; one +of our chauffeurs, sir. Oh, yes! Andy—I forget +his last name. He's all right, yes. I've got to +have help; can't handle the men, Mr. Goodwin. +All right; thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>He whirled about to Andy. In the brief +moments of their talk the congestion had thickened +appallingly, and Mr. Cook looked at the +disorder aghast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">{192}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go over to Ransome's box," he snapped; +"you're appointed; and I wish you luck! Fire +them if they kick, and, you may count on it, I'll +back you up."</p> + +<p>Ransome's box was on a small pier run out +upon the main floor, in such a situation that +every vehicle leaving or entering must pass it +and report. It was railed around and contained +a desk, a telephone and a chair. Adriance +slipped off his overcoat and cap as he walked +out on the little elevation and took his place. +The men lounging about the rooms straightened +themselves and stared up at this new arrival. +A little improvement in calmness came over +the horde at the mere sight of a figure in the +post of authority.</p> + +<p>The invalided Ransome was missed no more. +Opportunity had visited Adriance on the day +when he was inspired to seize it and attuned +to accord with it. He and his fellow chauffeurs +had been very good friends, but only as their +work for the same employer brought them together. +None of them had been so intimate +with him as to feel his present position a slight +upon themselves. Indeed, they were a good-natured,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> +hard-working set, whose heckling of +Mr. Cook had been as much mischief as any +desire to take a mean advantage of the present +situation.</p> + +<p>There was an authority in Adriance himself +of which he was quite conscious, a personal force +that grew with exercise. He stood on his elevation, +sending out man after man with clear, +reasonable orders, noting the distance, the time +of departure and the time allowed for the errand +of each. He acquainted each man with the new +rule concerning machines broken down or temporarily +disabled, wisely giving this as an order +of Mr. Cook's. When Russian Mike came by +with Andy's truck, the big man smiled up at the +man on the pier.</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to bust her," he assured +him; "I guess I'm a pretty good driver?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you are," laughed Adriance, leaning +down to give him his slip and a hand-clasp +by way of encouragement. "You're all right, +Michael; take care of yourself and remember +what I told you about going slow."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" A smile widened the broad lips. +"Say, I guess it's a pretty good thing we wasn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">{194}</a></span> +being checked up this way when we met that +actor lady, yes?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind her." Adriance's color rose +a trifle. "I am not holding any one down to +too close time, either; but this is a rush morning. +Go along now."</p> + +<p>And Michael placidly went.</p> + +<p>The room began to clear before the efforts of +the excitable, nervous Mr. Cook at one end and +the quiet management of the young man at the +other extremity of the place. This was far more +exacting work than driving one of those motor-trucks +he dispatched in such imperious fashion, +Adriance soon discovered. For he did not +merely hand each driver a slip stating his +destination, as was the custom of Ransome. +Under that system Adriance knew from his own +observation that hours a day were wasted by +the men. Only if a chauffeur outrageously over-staid +the reasonable time for his journey did +he receive a sarcastic rebuke, which was sufficiently +answered by the allegation of engine +trouble. The new method was received with +astonishment and some scowls, but without revolt. +Instead of each truck sent out failing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">{195}</a></span> +return until the noon hour, two, and even three +trips were completed during the morning. There +were some complaints, of course. Adriance cut +them off in their incipience. He was enjoying +himself in spite of the strain.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the morning, when the +trucks first sent out began to come in again, +Cook left his post for a few moments. Adriance +did not see him leave, nor did he note that two +other men returned with his temporary colleague +and remained standing for some time in the +shadow of the pillared arcade around the wall, +watching the proceedings on the floor. During +a lull in the coming and going, when Adriance +was sorting his piles of slips, one of these men +walked out to his raised enclosure.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," the stranger opened.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," Adriance absently replied; +turning his head and perceiving his visitor to +be a frail little old gentleman, he offered him +the solitary chair. Of course he knew that his +visitor must be connected with the factory, if +only from the air of tranquil assurance with +which he settled his <i>pince-nez</i> and surveyed the +younger man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">{196}</a></span></p> + +<p>"How do you keep all those apart?" he questioned, +motioning toward the slips.</p> + +<p>"Put them in order on a file as the men go +out, then turn the heap over. The first one out +should be the first one in," explained Adriance, +smiling. "Of course, I have to keep together +those who have approximately the same distance +to cover. It is a very rough and ready +method, I know; but it was devised under the +stress of the moment. A row of boxes with a +compartment for each truck numbered to correspond +would be one better way that occurs to +me; but, of course, I am merely a temporary +interloper."</p> + +<p>"My name is Goodwin; Mr. Cook did not +tell me yours——?"</p> + +<p>The manager of the factory and his father's +associate! It was the purest chance that Tony +and he never had met at the Adriance house. +But Mr. Goodwin belonged to an older generation +than the senior Adriance, his home was in +Englewood and he rarely came to New York +unless upon business—the great city was distasteful +to him. Something of this Adriance +recollected after his first dismay, and drew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">{197}</a></span> +such reassurance from it as he might, as he +answered:</p> + +<p>"My name is Adriance, Mr. Goodwin."</p> + +<p>"Adriance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It is not so odd; I am a distant +connection of the New York family, I believe." +He had a cloudy recollection of a witty Frenchman +who alluded to an estranged member of +his family as his "distant brother."</p> + +<p>"I see, I see; after all, even somewhat unusual +names are constantly repeated." Mr. +Goodwin scrutinized the other in the glare of +artificial light that rather confused vision. +"But, excuse me, you hardly speak like a chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"Does not that depend on the chauffeur?" +Adriance parried pleasantly. "I hope not to +remain one all my life, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Ah—certainly. Mr. Cook asked me to +come down and observe the improvement in +the conditions here this morning. I am pleased, +much pleased. I should have regulated the +system in this department before; but these +modern innovations press upon me rather fast. +I looked forward to retiring, I do indeed," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">{198}</a></span> +coughed impatiently and glanced vaguely over +the great room. "However, that is not the +point. I should like you to keep this position, +Adriance; at least until Mr. Ransome recovers. +I hear he is threatened with pneumonia."</p> + +<p>"I should be glad to do so, Mr. Goodwin."</p> + +<p>"We might use him in the office to better +advantage. Well, we will try your system first. +Write an order for any filing cabinets or apparatus +you deem necessary. Give it to Mr. +Cook and I will see personally that all is supplied. +This is a critical moment on which may +depend a considerable trade with South America. +Cook tells me that more goods have been +moved this morning than in any entire day +recently. We had thought of buying more +trucks."</p> + +<p>"I think that is not required, sir; I wish you +would try my way for a week before doing so, +at least. It is only a question of using to the +full extent the materials on hand. I fancy new +troubles grow up with new institutions, and an +outsider may more easily see the remedy."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Young blood in the business, you +think? Perhaps, perhaps."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">{199}</a></span></p> + +<p>Two trucks roared into the place and up to +Adriance's post. When he had finished with +them and sent them on to Cook's end of the +room, he turned back to Mr. Goodwin; but that +gentleman, satisfied as to the improved conditions, +was already stepping into the elevator +to return to his own offices above.</p> + +<p>"Seventy-three, the old top is," remarked +Cook, running over to pass his fellow-worker a +mass of memoranda. "Keen as ever, but not +up-to-date, that is all. Here—these to the dock, +these to the Erie yards; this straight to the +decorator on Fifth Avenue, who is waiting for +it—it's a special design landscape-paper for a +club grill-room on Long Island. Rush the one +to the steamer—Long Island and Buffalo can +wait."</p> + +<p>"You were mighty good to help me that +way," said Adriance. He took the slip, regarding +the little man with a glance in which many +thoughts met. He smiled at one of these, and +his face became warmly kind for an instant and +rather startled Cook.</p> + +<p>"You helped me out of a scrape by volunteering +this morning," Cook answered, a trifle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">{200}</a></span> +abruptly. "I only asked him to come see how +things were going. You are to keep on here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for the present."</p> + +<p>"Glad of it! Ever do this kind of work +before?"</p> + +<p>"Handling trucks?"</p> + +<p>"No; handling men."</p> + +<p>Adriance considered.</p> + +<p>"Only on a yacht, I think."</p> + +<p>A group of four trucks came in. Outside a +whistle began to blow; others joined the clamor +and a gong clanged heavily through the intermittent +shudder of the machinery-crowded +building. Twelve o'clock! Cook hurried away +to his own men, who had fallen idle with the +surprising promptness of the true workmen; +and the examination was ended. Adriance +foresaw that it would recommence, but he was +indifferent. He cared very little how soon his +father discovered him, now that he had resolved +to seek his father as soon as he saw his way a +little more clearly.</p> + +<p>He was profoundly gratified and excited by +this morning's success. It gave him self-confidence, +and it enabled him to ask a share in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">{201}</a></span> +factory's management with something more +tangible to offer his father than the mere assertion +that he saw improvements to be made. +He actually had accomplished something. He +would save many thousands of dollars by utilizing +the machines on hand instead of purchasing +more of the costly motor-trucks, with their +expenses of upkeep, additional chauffeurs, and +inevitable deterioration from use.</p> + +<p>He walked out into the cold, fresh air to +glimpse the sunshine and cool his hot flush of +satisfaction. He thought of Elsie with a passion +of tenderness and triumph. He resolved +that he would not tell her of his plans until they +were better assured. He must begin to shelter +her from excitement or possible disappointment. +No, he would not speak of the reconciliation +he hoped to effect with his father; not +yet. But of course he would tell her of his new +position in the factory, and they would exult +over it together. Adriance decided he would +wait until their dinner was over and cleared +away, then he would draw her down beside him +in the firelight and astonish her.</p> + +<p>There was a little lunch cart across the way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">{202}</a></span> +much frequented by chauffeurs, car-conductors +and ferry-men. He went there for his lunch, +as he usually did when noon found him near +the factory. It seemed to him that there was +already a little difference in the way the fellow-workers +whom he found there treated him. +Already they seemed to feel that he was moving +away from them—had taken the upper trail, +as it were. Indeed, he felt a change in himself +not to be denied. It was not arrogance, +merely the assurance of a man who sees a definite +path before him and follows it to his own +end; he had ceased to live from day to day.</p> + +<p>But he was quite sure that he would never +forget this day. If he had a son he would tell +him about this when he reached manhood. And +he would be his son's guide to this satisfaction +of work accomplished, lest he miss it altogether, +as Tony himself so nearly had done. There +were to be no worthless Adriances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">{203}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">What Tony Built</span></h2> + + +<p>By a caprice of chance, it was that day Masterson +came; almost at the hour when Adriance, +tired and exultant, was rearing a structure of +good dreams as he ate his cheap food at the +counter of the lunch-cart under the shadow of +the huge electric sign bearing his name.</p> + +<p>Morning had arrived at noon, when Elsie +was called to her front door by a clang of the +bell; one of those small gongs favored years +ago, that snap with a pulled handle. Down at +the end of the straight path she heard laughter +and the high-pitched voices of women above the +soft roll of an automobile's motor. Surprised, +she opened the door.</p> + +<p>Before her, on the high, absurd little porch, +a man in motoring furs stood and steadied himself +by grasping the snow-powdered railing. +Confronted by a woman, he lifted his cap, and +a sunbeam piercing the old roof gleamed across +his close-clipped auburn curls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">{204}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was told at the little shop that a chauffeur +lived here," he explained, pleasantly enough. +The glare of the sun on snow dazzled his first +vision. "Our compressed air system is out of +order, and my man forgot to put in a hand-pump. +I——"</p> + +<p>His voice trailed away into silence. He had +seen her face.</p> + +<p>"Elsie?" he doubted. "Elsie?"</p> + +<p>She smiled at him with her serene composure, +although deep color swept over her face +with the startled movement of her blood.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Adriance," she corrected. "Will you +not come in? I am sorry Mr. Adriance is not +at home."</p> + +<p>He crossed the threshold mechanically, his +gaze not leaving her.</p> + +<p>"I did not believe it," he exclaimed, under +his breath. "I thought Lucille—lied."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Masterson!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head in deprecation of offense, +continuing his scrutiny of her. He had the +appearance of a man fevered by drink or illness; +his eyes were bright behind a surface +glaze, his face was haggard, yet flushed. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">{205}</a></span> +features, always of a fineness almost suggesting +effeminacy, had sharpened to an extreme +delicacy that promised little for health or endurance.</p> + +<p>"They told me a chauffeur lived here," he +said, presently.</p> + +<p>"Anthony is a chauffeur," she answered, +compassion for the change in him making her +voice very gentle. "But I am afraid we have +no automobile tools to lend. All such things +are kept at the factory or in the machine he +drives."</p> + +<p>He swept aside the subject of automobiles +with an impatient movement of his hand, and +slowly turned to look over the room.</p> + +<p>It had gathered much of comfort during +those last months, that room; and something +more. Scarlet-flowered curtains hung at the +windows, echoing the vivid note of scarlet salvia +in bloom on the sills. A shelf of books had been +put up; beneath, a small table held the jade-and-ivory +chessmen drawn up in battle array +on their field. As always, the fire glowed, and +on the hearth the cat stretched drowsily. Cheer +dwelt in the place, the atmosphere of comradeship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> +and assured love; and the pulse of it all +was the girl who stood, tranquil of regard, rich +in life and beautiful with health, princess in her +own domain.</p> + +<p>At her Masterson looked longest, his handsome, +bitter mouth oddly twisted out of shape.</p> + +<p>"You're different," he pronounced, finally.</p> + +<p>"I am very happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy? Here? You married a millionaire's +son to live here?"</p> + +<p>"I married to live with my husband," she +proudly corrected him.</p> + +<p>Again he looked around, and suddenly +laughed out with an over-loud lack of control +that in a woman would have been called hysterical.</p> + +<p>"Tony Adriance's house!" he cried, striking +his gloved hands together. "Tony—idle Tony, +easy Tony, Tony of teas and tangos—Tony +has built this! Why——," he bent toward her. +"You have been matching work with God, Elsie +Adriance; you have made a man!"</p> + +<p>She drew back, aghast at the bold irreverence. +He laughed again at her expression.</p> + +<p>"You think I meant that wrongly? I did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">{207}</a></span> +not. I know well enough the way Tony is going, +and the way I am. That is if he sticks to this! +Are you never afraid he will not! Never afraid +he will drift back to the easier ways?"</p> + +<p>"No," she affirmed. A shining radiance +lighted her confident eyes. She carried beneath +her heart that which made Anthony and her +forever one. Fear was done with; it no longer, +wolf-like, hunted down her happiness.</p> + +<p>"No? Do you think he will be content to +be a chauffeur on a honeymoon all his life? +I'm going to do something decent, Elsie; I'm +going to help you clinch Tony Adriance. No, +don't protest. I'm going to force my help on +you both, wanted or not. Why, you can't keep +him out of New York forever! Send him there +to-night, to me, and I'll finish what you have +begun."</p> + +<p>Amazed and dismayed, she retreated from +his urgency.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," she began a stiff refusal.</p> + +<p>He cut her short with impatience.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll leave a message for him. Don't +look like that; I only want him to meet me in +a public restaurant. Can't you trust me?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">{208}</a></span></p> + +<p>"You do not understand."</p> + +<p>"I understand more than you do," he retorted +bluntly. "But if I am wrong, no harm +will be done. I want to see him, anyhow. Are +you afraid of me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, then——?"</p> + +<p>He pulled off his gloves and took a card and +fountain pen from his pocket. Elsie watched +him helplessly as he wrote, chilled in spite of +herself by a return of the old dread. What, +was she not able to hold Anthony certainly, even +now? She tried to look around her, fortifying +her spirit with all the prosaic evidences of their +united life. After all, Masterson knew "Tony"; +he knew nothing of the man Anthony was.</p> + +<p>She was able to meet her visitor's glance +with her usual calm, when he put the message +he had written into her hand.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to come," he pressed. "Have +you forgotten he and I were friends? And I'll +always be grateful to you for loving Holly. Did +you know I had lost Holly?"</p> + +<p>She paled, the baby face rising before her.</p> + +<p>"Lost him! Not——?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">{209}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dead? No. I'm the one who is dead, to +borrow a bit of slang."</p> + +<p>His laugh was bitter as quassia; he turned +his head toward the sound of the automobile +horn that summoned him.</p> + +<p>"A dead one!" he repeated. "I have to go, +Mrs. Adriance. But send Tony over, to-night."</p> + +<p>The door closed on the last word. Elsie +heard the high, rather strident voices of the +women calling salute and impatience; then Masterson's +reply set in a key of strained merriment. +The motor roared under the chauffeur's +hand. They were departing; evidently a means +of inflating the tire had been found.</p> + +<p>The peace of Elsie's day had departed with +them. The alteration in Masterson frightened +her; the strangeness of his manner and of his +invitation filled her with anxiety. Something +was wrong; something she could not guess or +understand. Why should he have spoken so +of Holly? Why, too, did he want Anthony this +night?</p> + +<p>Was Mrs. Masterson to be one of the party +at the restaurant? That idea came later. The +mere possibility of such an event fixed Elsie's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">{210}</a></span> +decision; she would not send Anthony to the +meeting desired. She would let Masterson's +accidental visit pass unnoticed.</p> + +<p>But when evening came, and with it +Adriance, ruddy with the March wind, boyishly +hungry and gay; when he took his wife +in his arms and kissed her with the deep tenderness +that the morning had added to their +first love, Elsie knew better. Better any misfortune +than the barrier of deceit between them. +And she remembered in time that it was not +for her to deprive him of his right of decision +and free-will.</p> + +<p>She waited until supper was eaten and the +blue-and-white dishes shining in their rack +again beside the ten-cent-shop china.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go on with our book?" Adriance +proposed, when his pipe was lit. Now that the +moment had come, it pleased him to dally with +the surprise he held for her, to prolong his +secret content. He stretched luxuriously in his +arm-chair. "Lord, it's good to get home! +Funny I never cared much about books until +we took to reading aloud, isn't it? Come over +and settle down. I think we'll turn in early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">{211}</a></span> +to-night, if you don't mind, girl. I want to do +some extra work, to-morrow."</p> + +<p>She came to him rather slowly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Masterson was here to-day," she said +reluctantly. "He came by chance, to borrow +something for his automobile. I think it was a +tire-pump. Of course he was surprised to find +me. And he left this for you."</p> + +<p>Astonished, he took the card, pulling her +down beside him; and they read the message +together. It was very brief, yet somehow carried +a force of compulsion. Masterson urged +his friend to go that night to the ball-room of +a certain restaurant known to every New +Yorker, and there wait until he, Masterson, +joined him.</p> + +<p>There was a pause after the reading. +Adriance stared at the card with the knitted +brow of perplexity, while Elsie watched his +face in tense suspense.</p> + +<p>"It would be too late, now, anyway," she +murmured, tentatively. "It is eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Adriance aroused himself and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, innocence! That ball-room does not +open until eleven, fair outlander. But you had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">{212}</a></span> +better get ready, for we have a quite respectable +distance to go. Here vanishes our quiet evening!"</p> + +<p>"We? You would take me?"</p> + +<p>He regarded her curiously.</p> + +<p>"Did you suppose I would go without you? +We will have to go, because Fred means this; +I know him well enough to tell. I'm afraid he +is in some kind of trouble."</p> + +<p>Elsie shut her eyes for a moment, mastering +her passionate relief. She opened them to a +new thought.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, I haven't any clothes, for such a +place."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I," he calmly dismissed the +matter. "We will go in street costume. It +doesn't matter, since we do not want to dance. +By the way, can you dance?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"The new dances?"</p> + +<p>"Some of them," a dimple disturbed her +smooth cheek. "Not the very new one."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll teach you. But you will only +dance with me," he stated with finality.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">{213}</a></span></p> + +<p>Absurdly happy in the jealous prohibition, +she went to make ready.</p> + +<p>Elsie Murray had possessed one dress that +Elsie Adriance never had worn. It was a year +old, one brought from her distant home, but so +simply made that its fashion would still pass. +It was an afternoon, not evening gown; a clinging, +black sheath of chiffon and net, covering +her arms, but leaving bare the creamy pillar of +her throat. The cloudy darkness echoed the +dark softness of her hair and threw into relief +her clear, health-tinted beauty of complexion. +When she wore it into the room where her husband +waited, he greeted her with a whistle of +surprise and pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Some lady!" he approved. "What did you +mean—no clothes? Have I seen that before?"</p> + +<p>"No. Do you like me this way?"</p> + +<p>He put his hands on her shoulders, looking +down into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Of course. But don't you know it doesn't +matter what you wear or have?" he asked. "We +have got away beyond that, you and I."</p> + +<p>They walked to the ferry; two miles through +the cold darkness. But they found the journey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">{214}</a></span> +a pleasure, not a hardship. Elsie had taught +Anthony her art of extracting amusement from +each experience. On the ferryboat, they had +sole possession of the deck. "Mollycoddles," +Elsie called the passengers who huddled into +the cabins. The wind painted her cheeks and +lips scarlet, as she leaned over the rail to hear +the crunch of drift ice under the boat's sides. +The two evoked quite a sense of arctic voyage, +between them. Anthony gravely insisted he +had seen a polar bear on one tossing floe. They +were happy enough to relish nonsense; and more +excited by the coming meeting and place of meeting +than either would have admitted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">{215}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Cabaret Dancer</span></h2> + + +<p>It was eleven o'clock when they entered the +revolving door of the restaurant appointed, +and faced a group of lounging attendants in +the lobby; cynical-eyed servitors, all. Tony +Adriance was recognized by these with a vivifying +promptness; at once he was surrounded, +addressed by name, had officious service pressed +upon him. It was strange to the girl to see him +so familiar in this place where she never had +been; strange, and a little disquieting. But her +grave poise was undisturbed. She left her simple +hat and coat with a maid, aware of their unsuitability +for the place and hour.</p> + +<p>They did not enter the crowded room to their +right, where an orchestra was overwhelming +all other and lesser din with a crashing one-step. +Instead, Anthony turned up a shining marble +stair with a plush-cushioned balustrade and too +much gilding. Elsie viewed herself beside him +in mirrors set in the wall at regular intervals.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">{216}</a></span></p> + +<p>The stairs ended at an arcaded hall, beyond +which lay a long, brilliant room, comfortably +filled with people at supper. Filled, that is, +according to its arrangement: the entire central +space of gleaming, ice-smooth floor was empty, +the tables were ranged around the four walls. +The guests here wore evening dress, for the most +part, so that the room glowed with color, delicate, +vivid or glaring, as the taste of the owner +dictated. Here there was comparative quiet; +the voices and laughter were lower in pitch than +down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Masterson here?" Anthony questioned +the head waiter, who hastened to meet +the arriving couple.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Mr. Adriance," the man answered +deferentially. "At twelve, he comes. May I +show you a table, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Not too near the music—Mrs. +Adriance and I want to hear each other speak."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir. The drum <i>will</i> be loud, sir; +but the dancers like it."</p> + +<p>Elsie caught the man's side glance of respectful +curiosity and interest directed toward +herself, and understood why Anthony deliberately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">{217}</a></span> +had fixed her identity as his wife. Pride +warmed her, and love of his consideration for +her; suddenly she was able to enjoy the scene +around her. She felt no self-consciousness, even +when the elaborately gowned and coifed women +glanced over her appraisingly as she passed by +their tables. She looked back at them, serenely +sure of herself. She was not at all aware that +many of the men stared at her with startled +admiration of a visitor alien to this atmosphere. +Adriance saw well enough, however. Elsie had +an innocent dignity of carriage that, joined with +her gravely candid gaze, was not a little imposing. +Moreover her pure, bright color and +clear eyes were disconcertingly natural beside +the artificial beauties. Pride of possession tingled +agreeably through him; he had not thought +of this or expected the emotion.</p> + +<p>When the two were seated opposite one another, +the regard they exchanged was of glowing +content. Adriance ordered supper with the +interest of appetite and with a fine knowledge +of her tastes and his own. Then, at ease, they +smiled at each other. The extravagance of the +feast was of no moment. The utter simplicity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">{218}</a></span> +of their daily life made Anthony's salary more +than sufficient; they already possessed the resource +of a bank account.</p> + +<p>So far, there had been no music, except faint +echoes from the room below. Now a tinkle of +strings sounded delicately, swelling from a single +note into a full, minor waltz melody. Turning, +Elsie saw the musicians. They were +negroes; not a band or an orchestra, merely a +pianist, two men with mandolins and as many +with banjoes, and one who handled with amazing +dexterity a whole set of sound producers; a +drum, cymbals, bells, a gong, even an automobile +horn. From one to another instrument, as +the character of the piece demanded, this performer's +hands and feet flew with accuracy and +ludicrous speed. But the music was more than +good, it was unique, inspired; it snared the feet +and the senses. All round sounded the scraping +of chairs pushed back, as men and women rose +to answer the call. In one short moment +the place changed from a restaurant to a +ball-room.</p> + +<p>It was such a ball-room as Elsie Adriance +never had glimpsed in either her Louisiana or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">{219}</a></span> +restricted New York experiences. The women +were costumed in the extreme fashions of a year +when all fashion was extreme. As the dancers +swayed past in the graceful, hesitating steps of +the last new waltz, there were revelations;—of +low-cut draperies, of skirts transparent to the +knees, with ribbon-laced slippers jewelled at +heel and buckle glancing through the thin veil +of tinted chiffon or lace. The scene had an +Oriental frankness without being blatant or +coarse. At the tables there was much drinking +of wine and liqueurs, but as yet no apparent intoxication. +Some of the women who were not +dancing smoked cigarettes as they chatted with +their companions; not a few of these had white +hair and were obviously matrons, respected and +self-respecting.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it?" Adriance inquired, +after watching his wife with mischief in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she slowly confessed. "You +know, I am an outlander. But I am not so +stupid as to misunderstand too badly. These +people are—all right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; most of them. This is the after-theatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">{220}</a></span> +crowd. Some are from the stage, some +from the audience. That lady in green chiffon +who looks as if she had forgotten to put on most +of her clothes is the wife of one of my father's +business associates. Did you see her husband +bow to us as we came in? The little black-eyed +girl in the black velvet walking-suit, at the next +table, is La Tanagra, who does classic dances +in a yard of pink veil. She is a very nice girl, +too. Of course, some of them——" He +shrugged.</p> + +<p>The music stopped. Through a press of +laughing, flushed people returning to their +tables, a waiter wound a difficult passage with +the first course of the supper Adriance had +ordered.</p> + +<p>Guests entered the room in a thin, constant +stream, as the hour advanced. But there was +no sign of Masterson. Elsie wondered what +he would say on finding her with Anthony. +Would he be angry, indifferent, disconcerted? +Perhaps he would not come alone.</p> + +<p>A sharp, imperious clang of cymbals rang +out abruptly, hushing the murmur of voices and +laughter. Elsie started from her abstraction,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">{221}</a></span> +and saw all eyes turned toward the centre of +the room.</p> + +<p>"Demonstration dance," smiled Adriance. +"Now you'll see something!"</p> + +<p>A short, dark man and a woman in yellow +gauze through which showed her bare, dimpled +knees, stood alone on the floor. At a second +clang of cymbals they floated with the music +into a strange, half-Spanish, half-savage dance; +a dance vigorously, even crudely alive and swift +as a flight. The woman was not beautiful, but +she was incredibly graceful. Her small, arched, +flashing feet in their gilded slippers recalled a +half-forgotten line to Elsie.</p> + +<p>"'And her sandals delighted his eyes——'" +she quoted aloud. "Do you remember that, +Anthony?"</p> + +<p>But Adriance was laughing at her.</p> + +<p>"Infant!" he mocked. "Wait until you've +seen it as often as I have, and then you will not +let your supper grow cold. There, it's over!"</p> + +<p>It was. The dance ended with the dancers in +each other's arms, glances knit, lips almost +touching. The applause was courteous. The +audience, like Adriance, was too sophisticated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">{222}</a></span> +to be readily excited. It really preferred to do +its own dancing.</p> + +<p>The preference was gratified during the next +half hour. One-step, fox-trot and a Lulu Fado +followed in smooth succession. The room was +very full, now. One or two parties began to show +too much exhilaration.</p> + +<p>"I wish Fred would come," Adriance remarked, +with a restive glance at the noisiest +group. "I don't want you to be here much after +midnight. I wonder——"</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by a second crash of +brazen cymbals that struck down the chatter +and movement of the crowd. With the harsh, +resonant clang, and continuing after it had +ceased, came the soft chime of a clock striking +twelve.</p> + +<p>This time a more decided interest greeted +the announcement. In fact, a distinct thrill ran +through the room. Men and women abandoned +forks and glasses, turning eagerly toward the +entrance. A marked hush continued in the +place.</p> + +<p>"Some celebrity," Adriance interpreted, +impatiently. "Confound Masterson's whims—why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">{223}</a></span> +couldn't he have seen me at home? Now +he can't get in until this is over."</p> + +<p>The music had commenced—a tripping languorous +ballet suite from a famous opera. Into +the large, square arch of the doorway a girl +drifted and stood.</p> + +<p>She was a sullen, magnificent creature, as +she faced the audience. Her full, red mouth +was straight-lipped, returning no smile to the +welcoming applause. It was not possible to +imagine a dimple breaking the firm curve of +her rouged cheek. Elsie thought she never had +seen a woman so indisputably handsome, or so +utterly lacking in feminine allure. Heaps of +satin-black hair framed her face and were held +by jewelled bandeaux; her corsage was dangerously +low, retained in place by narrow strings +of brilliants over her strong, smooth, white +shoulders. Her skirts were those of the conventional +ballet: billows of spangled rose-colored +tulle. As she began to dance, her eyes, +very large and dark behind their darkened +lashes, swept the spectators with a sombre alertness. +Elsie felt the glance pass across her and +rest on Anthony. Yes, rest there, for an instant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">{224}</a></span> +of fixed attention! But Adriance showed no +change of expression to his wife's questioning +regard; he watched the dancer with a placid +interest, without evincing any sign of +recognition.</p> + +<p>It was a curious dance, as singularly stripped +of womanly allure as the girl's beauty. Yet it +was graceful and clever. She bent and swayed +through the measures, circling the room with +a studied coquetry cold as indifference; posing +now and then with a rose she lifted to touch +lips or cheek. The audience looked on with a +sustained tension of interest that the performance +did not seem to warrant. Elsie noticed +that the men laughed or evinced faint embarrassment +if the dancer leaned toward them, but +the women clapped enthusiastically and sent +smiling glances. What was it that these people +knew, but which she and Anthony did not? +There was something——</p> + +<p>Just opposite the Adriances the dancer had +slipped in executing an intricate and difficult +step. She staggered, catching herself, but not +before she had reeled heavily against Elsie's +chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">{225}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pardon!" she panted, her voice low. "The +floor is too polished!"</p> + +<p>For a moment her eyes looked full into +Elsie's, and they were not dark, but a very +bright blue. The brush of her naked arm and +shoulder left a streak of white powder on the +other's sleeve; a heavy fragrance of heliotrope +shook from her garments. Before Adriance +could rise she was gone.</p> + +<p>"Confounded clumsiness!" he exclaimed, +with suppressed anger. "Did she hurt you, +Elsie?"</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, no! Anthony, I know her—I knew +her eyes."</p> + +<p>He stared at his wife.</p> + +<p>"You know her!"</p> + +<p>"I recognized her eyes. I do not know who +she is, I cannot think; yet I know her. She +knew me, too; I saw it in her face. And I believe +she knows you."</p> + +<p>"Elsie!"</p> + +<p>"She looked—— Wait; she is finishing!"</p> + +<p>The music was indeed rising to a finale. The +dancer glided to the central arch through which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">{226}</a></span> +she had entered, poised on the verge of taking +flight, then raised both hands to her head.</p> + +<p>The black wig came off with the sweeping +gesture. The dancer was a man, whose short-clipped +auburn hair tumbled in boyish disorder +about his powdered forehead. But there was +no look of boyhood in his face, as he turned it +toward Adriance's table; the familiar, reckless +face of Fred Masterson.</p> + +<p>The room was in an uproar of laughter and +applause. But the dancer disappeared without +acknowledging or pausing to enjoy his success; +indeed, as if escaping from it.</p> + +<p>When Elsie ventured to look at her husband, +he had one hand across his eyes. He dropped +it at once, but avoided her gaze as if the humiliation +were his own.</p> + +<p>"Finish your coffee," he bade, his voice +roughened by a dry hoarseness. "I want to +get out of this—to get home."</p> + +<p>"We have not spoken to Mr. Masterson," +she hesitatingly reminded him. "He asked us +to meet him."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I have seen what he wanted me +to see."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">{227}</a></span></p> + +<p>The waiter was beside them again, checking +her answer. It seemed to Elsie that the man +eyed Anthony with a furtive and malicious comprehension. +Had he ever seen Tony Adriance +with Mrs. Masterson, she wondered? Did he +imagine—she thrust away the thought.</p> + +<p>"After all, dear, aren't we prejudiced?" +she essayed, unconvinced and unconvincing +reason. "Isn't it really as if he were an actor?"</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't! You know it's not. It isn't +what he does that these people applaud; they +applaud because he does it. He succeeds by +making a show of himself, his name, his position. +The grotesqueness of his being here succeeds, +not his work. Well—are you ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, submissive to his +mood.</p> + +<p>He paid the check, and they passed out. +Elsie recovered her hat and coat from the maid, +in the dressing-room below. She was too preoccupied +to notice the attendant's inquisitive +scrutiny, or the frank stare of a fair-haired girl +who was making up her complexion with elaborate +care before one of the mirrors. It would +not have occurred to her, if she had, that word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">{228}</a></span> +had passed down the staff of servants that the +quiet girl in black was Mrs. Tony Adriance. +But without knowing her own plain attire had +the reflected lustre of cloth-of-gold, she was too +feminine not to embrace with a glance of faintly +wistful admiration the furs, velvets and shining +satins of the wraps left in this place by the +other women. No preoccupation could quite +ignore that array. There was one coat of gray +velvet that matched her own eyes, lined with +poppy-hued silk that matched her lips. A trifle +dismayed by her own frivolity, she hastened +out from the place of temptation. Anthony was +waiting for her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">{229}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Other Man's Road</span></h2> + + +<p>The damp cold of a March night closed +chillingly around the two, as they passed +through the revolving door into the street. The +restaurant did not face on Broadway, the street +of a million lights; for a moment they seemed +to have stepped into darkness, after the dazzle +of light just left. Adriance turned away from +the vociferous proffers of taxicabs, with an +economy prompted by Elsie's guiding hand +rather than his own prudence. Indeed, his great +amazement and vicarious shame for Masterson +left him with slight attention for ordinary +matters.</p> + +<p>But they were not allowed to reach the subway, +and return as they had come. As they +neared the station entrance, a limousine rolled +up to the curb and halted across their path. +The car's occupant threw open the door before +the chauffeur could do so, and leaned out.</p> + +<p>"Come in," commanded, rather than invited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">{230}</a></span> +Masterson's voice. "You didn't wait for +me, so I had a chase to catch you. Put Mrs. +Adriance in, Tony, and tell the man where you +want to go. The ferry, is it? All right; tell +him so."</p> + +<p>He spoke with an abrupt impatience and +strain that excused much by its account of his +sick nerves. Adriance complied without objection. +Before she quite realized the situation, +Elsie found herself seated beside him, opposite +Masterson in the warmed interior of the car.</p> + +<p>The air of the limousine was not only warm, +but perfumed. Without analyzing their reason, +it struck both the Adriances as peculiarly shocking +that this should be so. Elsie identified the +white heliotrope scent worn by the dancer. The +globe set in the ceiling was not lighted, but the +street lamps shone in, showing the thinness of +Masterson's flushed face and its haggardness, +accentuated by smudges of make-up imperfectly +removed. Elsie felt a quivering embarrassment +for him, and a desperate hopelessness of finding +anything possible to say. She divined that +Anthony was experiencing the same feelings, +but intensified.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">{231}</a></span></p> + +<p>The car rolled smoothly around Columbus +Circle and settled into a steady pace up Broadway. +The rush of after-theatre traffic was long +since over, the streets comparatively clear. +Masterson spoke first, with a defiance that +attempted to be light.</p> + +<p>"Well, haven't you any compliments for me? +I've been told I do it pretty well. That's the +only thing I learned at college of any use to +me!"</p> + +<p>"How did you come——?" Adriance began, +brusquely. "I mean—what sent you there, to +that? Why, Fred——?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was you, Tony, until to-day," +was the dry retort. "I've thought so ever since +I found out who was financing the case. Until +this morning, I believed Lucille lied when she +told me you were married. I suppose I should +apologize to you; consider it done, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" Adriance begged. His hand closed +sharply over his wife's.</p> + +<p>"We have been married since last November," +she gravely came to his aid. "I am sure +Mrs. Masterson told you only the truth in that. +Indeed, the announcement was published in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">{232}</a></span> +newspapers! Since then, we have been living +where you saw me this morning; on a honeymoon +quite out of the world."</p> + +<p>"I don't read more of any newspaper than +the first pages," Masterson returned. "I see +you two do not read even so much, or you would +hardly have been taken by surprise, to-night. +Shocked, were you, Tony? I suppose I would +have been, myself, once. Now——"</p> + +<p>"Now——?" Adriance prompted, after +waiting.</p> + +<p>Masterson faced his friend with a sudden +blaze in his hollow eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now, I am through with being shocked at +myself, through with thinking of myself or +sparing myself and other people. Can't you +see, can't you guess for whom alone I would +do this—or anything else? Have you forgotten +Holly? I may not have a wife, but I have a son. +And I will not have my son reared as I was, +married as I was, and ruined as I am. I am +going to have money, if I fish it out of the gutter, +to take him away to some clean, far-off +place. There I shall rear him myself, understand! +He shall never know this Fred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">{233}</a></span> +Masterson. Roughing it outdoors will put me +in fit condition long before he is old enough to +criticise. He's got a fine little body, Tony! I'll +have him as hard and straight as a pine tree. +I'll teach him to work. What will I care for the +squalls of this corner of the world, when I have +done that? Since Lucille divorced me, I've +stripped my mind of a good deal of hampering +romance."</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by the exclamation of +both his listeners.</p> + +<p>"Divorced you?" Adriance echoed, stifled by +the pressure of warring emotions. "Divorced +you, after all?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you didn't know?" +He studied the two faces with incredulous astonishment; +then, convinced by their patent honesty, +shrugged derision of himself. "Conceited +lot, all of us! We think if our tea-cups drop, +the crash is heard around the world. Yes, I +have been a single man for three months. You +have been away for six, remember. But it went +through very quietly. Lucille is strong for propriety +and conventions. She even," his face +darkened with an angry flood of bitterness startling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">{234}</a></span> +as a self-betrayal, "she even is willing to +pay pretty highly for them. Holly——"</p> + +<p>The sentence remained unfinished. Elsie's +memory returned to that morning, when Masterson +told her that he had lost Holly. She +glimpsed his meaning now.</p> + +<p>The automobile had long since left behind +the flash and glitter of theatrical Broadway. +When the gliding silence of the progress was +suddenly broken by a blast of the car's electric +horn sounding warning to some late pedestrian, +the three within started as if at an unnatural +happening.</p> + +<p>"It went through quietly," Masterson sullenly +picked up the broken thread, "because she +bargained with me. She said that if I made no +defence, she would let me take Holly. Well, I +kept my word; I stayed away from the whole +business and didn't even get a lawyer—like a +fool. I don't even know what they said about +me. I didn't care, since she wanted it. And +then she asked the court for the custody of +Holly; and got him. It was only for the boy's +good, she says; I was not fit to have charge of +him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">{235}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" Elsie gasped.</p> + +<p>Masterson lighted a cigarette with an attempt +at unconcern. He had a singular difficulty +in bringing the burning match in contact with +the end of the little paper tube—a lack of coordination +between the nerves and muscles that +held a sinister meaning for one able to interpret +the signs.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he acknowledged the unworded +sympathy. "Maybe you know I was fit, then; +or, at least, would have been fit if I had had +him. Not having him, I went to—I beg your +pardon, Mrs. Adriance."</p> + +<p>"Fred——" Adriance essayed.</p> + +<p>The other man hushed him with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"I know what you are going to say, Tony. +Don't! My wife, my <i>late</i> wife and I have managed +this business. Keep out of what doesn't +concern you. Here, I'll give her due to her, too! +If I had not been weak, all this would never have +happened. But if she had played the game, it +would never have happened, either. Well, I +lose. But Holly shall not pay for the game he +had no share in. I am telling you two what I +have told no one else. When I have enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">{236}</a></span> +money, I shall buy Holly from his mother and +take him to Oregon. Lucille always needs +money. Phillips is out there, Tony. Do you +remember my Cousin Phil? Well, I started him +out there ten years ago; sold my first automobile +to help him out of a bad scrape. He says there +is room for me; work that will support any +man who doesn't want too much. They raise +square miles of fruit. I only wish it was the +other side of the world!"</p> + +<p>The limousine swung to the left, jarring +across a network of car tracks. They were turning +down to the ferry. Elsie nestled her hand +into her husband's, divining his pain.</p> + +<p>"Nice machine, this," Masterson observed, +casually. "One thing, I'm not making a gutter +exit! You wouldn't believe what they pay me +for my bit of college theatrical work. I did it +at first on a bet, after a supper party I gave +to celebrate my freedom. I think it must annoy +Lucille considerably. It suits me; and there +isn't any other way I could earn so quickly what +I need. Here we are."</p> + +<p>The automobile had stopped, and the chauffeur +threw open the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">{237}</a></span></p> + +<p>"The ferry-boat is just coming across, sir," +he stated.</p> + +<p>"Very well," his employer dismissed him. +"Mrs. Adriance, you had better stay in here +until the boat docks; it is cold, to-night. Tony +and I will go buy the tickets."</p> + +<p>"You might say Elsie, still," she answered +gently. "You know we were always good +friends."</p> + +<p>"You are good to say so now," he returned. +"Thank you."</p> + +<p>The two men did not buy the tickets; instead, +they walked side by side across the rough, cobblestone +square in front of the ferry-house. +Adriance was pale, but steadily set of face and +determination to have done, here and now with +all deceit.</p> + +<p>"Fred, I've got to clear things between us," +he forced the distasteful speech. "Before I met +my wife, I did see a great deal of Mrs. Masterson. +You spoke a while ago of believing me +responsible for her wanting a divorce. Once I +might have done such a thing, I do not know. +But, I did not. I went away, in order that I +should not."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">{238}</a></span></p> + +<p>The other nodded, almost equally embarrassed +by the difficult avowal.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Tony. I understand. But +don't blame me too much for my mistake. Do +you know who paid all the expenses of the case, +whose influence kept it out of the newspapers +as much as possible—in short, who managed +the whole campaign? Except about Holly; that +was a woman's trick! Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no. How should I?"</p> + +<p>The boat was in the slip; across the clank +of unwinding chains, the fall of gangways and +tread of men and horses, Masterson's reply +came:</p> + +<p>"Your father."</p> + +<p>The amazing statement stunned Adriance beyond +the possibility of reply. No outcry, no +denial of complicity could have been so convincing +as the utter stupefaction of the regard he +fixed upon his friend. What had the senior +Adriance to do with this affair? What had he +to do with Lucille Masterson?</p> + +<p>"It is true," Masterson answered his doubt. +"Now you know why I did not believe you were +married, until I met your wife, this morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">{239}</a></span> +And," he hesitated, "that is why, when I did +understand, I brought you to see me, to-night. +I could not say so before Mrs. Adriance, but +evidently your father is not pleased with your +marriage, since you're living like a laborer, +across the river. Make no mistake, Tony; your +father never in his life did anything without +reason. If he got Lucille her divorce, why, he +knows you admired her, once. And he always +liked her, himself. Suppose he figured that if +she were free, you might wish to become so? +Why not? We all know couples where both parties +have been divorced and married several +times, and no one says a word against them."</p> + +<p>The recoil that shook Adriance was strong +as physical sickness. Like a woman, he was glad +of the darkness.</p> + +<p>Divorce between Elsie and himself? He +could have laughed at the coarse absurdity of +the idea, if it had not been for his disgust and +desire to get away from the subject.</p> + +<p>"We shall miss the boat," he said curtly. +"Thank you, Fred, but that is all nonsense. +The truth of the matter is that you are sick—and +no wonder! Come, man, pull yourself up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">{240}</a></span> +and you'll get past all this. Why, you are only +twenty-eight; start over again here! Drop +everything and come home with Elsie and me +for a while. You saw how we live; it isn't much, +perhaps, but you would get back your health. +And we can force Mrs. Masterson to let you have +Holly part of the time, at least."</p> + +<p>"I saw the way you live," Masterson repeated. +"Yes. And you see the way I live. I'm +no preacher, but measure them up and choose if +ever you feel discontented, Tony. As for taking +me home, neither of us could stand it. I drink +all day to keep myself merry enough to stand +that restaurant, and take morphine at night to +keep myself asleep. No, we will not talk about +it. I must put this through in my own way, and +then leave this part of the earth. I can drop +all this at once when I am ready. I am no weakling +physically."</p> + +<p>The two wanted back to the car. Just before +they reached it, Masterson closed the discussion.</p> + +<p>"Think over what I've told you. You can't +love your wife any more than I did Lucille." +He shivered in the damp air, drawing his fur-lined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">{241}</a></span> +coat closer about him. "I couldn't keep +her, though I tried hard, at first. Wish you +better luck."</p> + +<p>It was three o'clock in the morning when +Adriance slipped his key into the clumsy old +lock of his house-door, while Elsie perched herself +on the railing of the porch. Within they +heard his dog barking boisterous welcome.</p> + +<p>"Up to work at seven," he commented, as +the clock struck simultaneously with the opening +of the door. But there was no complaint in +his tone. He threw his arm around Elsie and +drew her across the threshold with a deep breath +of relief.</p> + +<p>"Let me light the lamp," she offered.</p> + +<p>"I'll light it." He held her closer. "Wait +a moment; the hearth gives glow enough. I +have been thinking—if it should be a boy, I +would like to call our son after that jolly old +ancestor of yours: the black-sloop man, Martin +Galvez."</p> + +<p>"Not Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The brevity of the answer silenced her. She +gave her consent more delicately than in words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">{242}</a></span> +But still Adriance did not move toward the +lamp, or release his companion.</p> + +<p>"Elsie, you are happy, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"More than happy, dear."</p> + +<p>"If ever you are not, if you want anything +you have not got, tell me. You know I am not +going to keep you in this poor place always, +or let you work for me; I am working towards +better things for you, now. I have not told you, +yet—I was promoted to a new position to-day. +I have work inside the factory, and some individuality. +I am no longer just one of a troup +of chauffeurs. And, of course, this is only a +beginning. It is all for you, everything, will +you remember? If ever—I'm often stupid and, +well, a man!—if ever you find me lacking, you +will tell me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands over the hand that held +her. This ending to the day of doubt and anxiety +closed her round with a hush of deep content. +She wanted to cry out her love and happiness +and gratitude for his tenderness, to exalt him +above herself. But with a new wisdom, she +did not. Where he had placed her, she stood.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she assented. "Yes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">{243}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Guitar of Alenya of the Sea</span></h2> + + +<p>That one day, in a mood of fierce impatience, +had seized upon Anthony Adriance and hurried +him through a range of feeling and experience +such as Time usually brings in leisurely sequence, +spaced apart. From Elsie's confidence +in the morning, with its moving love and pride +and awe he in nowise was afraid to name holy, he +had gone to the spectacle of his friend's degradation +in the tawdry restaurant. And as a completion, +he had been confronted with the new +and ugly vision of a father he could not honor.</p> + +<p>He always had respected his father very +sincerely, and felt more affection for him than +either of them ever had realized. He had admired +the success of the elder Adriance, and +secretly regretted that he was not allowed to +work with him or share it except by spending its +proceeds. His hope of a reconciliation had not +been all mercenary. Now all that was thrown +down, an image overturned and shattered. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">{244}</a></span> +saw only a selfish, narrow-minded man, scheming +to divorce a pretty woman from her husband +in order that she might be free to come between +his son and the unwelcome wife he had taken. +For of course Elsie was judged by the servant's +position she had held; there was no one to tell of +her gentle birth and breeding. Anthony had +understood this, and had looked forward with +eager anticipation to enlightening his father, +some day when his other plans were quite ready.</p> + +<p>He had meant that day to be soon; now he +knew that it would never come in the way he +had fancied. And the loss of an ideal hurt. +Masterson had told him the truth; there was no +escaping the logical inference to be drawn from +it. Anthony wasted no energy in trying, instead +addressing himself still more closely to +the work in hand.</p> + +<p>He worked harder than ever, at the mill, but +the buoyant enthusiasm was gone. Now he +dreaded the possibility that Mr. Goodwin might +speak to Mr. Adriance of the young man who +bore his name and who was making such changes +in the shipping department. For Anthony did +not content himself with regulating the trucking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">{245}</a></span> +system. He had inherited his father's +ability, although the unused tool had lain undiscovered. +His attention aroused, he found +other slack lines, and indicated how to tighten +them to taut efficiency. Mr. Goodwin visited +the underground room more than once, observed +and approved. Cook, won by the new man's tact +that never slighted or criticised injuriously his +former chief and present associate, aided him +with warm co-operation. Anthony found his +salary increased. When Ransome returned, +after his illness, he was given a new position, +upstairs.</p> + +<p>The evenings in the little red house were no +longer entirely devoted to play, after that night +spent abroad. Adriance took to keeping a book +of records, in the form of cryptic notes and columns +of figures. "Chauffeur's accounts," he +called them, when Elsie questioned; and she +laughed acceptance of the evasion, forbearing +to tease him with curiosity.</p> + +<p>Long before, there had arrived the replies +to the letters of announcement he and Elsie had +written to her parents, and Adriance had been +touched home by the serious, graciously cordial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">{246}</a></span> +welcome extended to the unknown son-in-law. +He had promised himself, and Elsie, that some +time a visit to Louisiana should be paid. Since +that, she had described the neighborhood, the +countryside and people, with her knack of vivid +word-sketching, until all lay as clearly before +him as a place seen. Now he recalled this with +a new consideration.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the old house and plantation +that you once told me about?" he asked her, +one Sunday morning. "The deserted place, +that had been for sale so long. Do you suppose +it is still for sale?"</p> + +<p>"It was, the last time Virginia wrote," she +replied, regarding him questioningly. "She +spoke of a picnic held under the old trees."</p> + +<p>"If I—well, was crowded out of here, would +you be content to try life down there? I remembered +yesterday that I own some rather valuable +stuff left me by my mother; nothing very +much, just jewelry she had as a girl. I do not +like the idea of selling it, but if I am forced into +a corner, it would buy such a place for us. I +have some ideas I would like to try out."</p> + +<p>Elsie set down the salad-bowl with which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">{247}</a></span> +was busied; her rain-gray eyes grave, she considered +her husband.</p> + +<p>"Of what are you thinking, Anthony?"</p> + +<p>Adriance looked away. Even to her, he +could not bring himself to speak of his lost confidence +in his father or to say whom he now +feared as an enemy. Mr. Adriance could not +divide Anthony and his wife without their consent, +but he could make it bitterly hard for them +to live together. Anthony had known of men +who had incurred his father's enmity, and the +memory was not reassuring. Before his interview +with Masterson, he would have ridiculed +the idea of such a situation between his father +and himself; now, he was uncertain.</p> + +<p>"Put on your hat and coat," he evaded the +question. "Come for a walk; I want to show +you something."</p> + +<p>"And our dinner?" she demurred.</p> + +<p>"Never mind it. We will eat scrambled eggs."</p> + +<p>Laughing, she complied.</p> + +<p>"What am I going to see, Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"A house," briefly.</p> + +<p>The walk took them quite away from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">{248}</a></span> +neighborhood of such small cottages as their +own. In fact, the house before which Anthony +finally halted was standing so much away from +any others as scarcely to be called in a neighborhood, +at all. It stood out on a little spur of +the Palisades, delightfully nestled in a bit of +woodland and lawns of its own.</p> + +<p>"There!" he indicated it. "Pretty?"</p> + +<p>Elsie looked, with a satisfying seriousness. +The house was so new that the builder's self-advertisement +still jostled the sign offering for +sale: "this modern residence, all improvements."</p> + +<p>"I love it," she pronounced. "Those white +cement houses are adorable; it looks as if it +were made of cream-candy. What deep porches, +like caves of white coral; and how deliciously +the light gleams in those cunning, stained-glass +windows! I suppose they are set up the stairs? +It is a nice size, too; large enough to be quite +luxurious, but not so large as to be appalling. +How did you happen to notice it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I took this road for a short cut, one day. +Look what a view you have up here. One must +see twenty miles up and down the river, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">{249}</a></span> +over half New York. But it is open to inspection; +let us go in."</p> + +<p>"As if we were considering buying it," she +fell in with the sport. "Yes, and we will be +very critical indeed; find flaws and finally reject +it. Really, Anthony, it does not at all compare +with our present residence."</p> + +<p>"You'll do," he approved, drawing her up +the broad, lazily-low steps.</p> + +<p>It really was an enchanting house; a house +that developed unexpected charms to the pair +who wandered through its empty, echoing +rooms and halls. It indulged in nooks, and inconsequential +little balconies; it displayed a +most inviting window-seat halfway up the +stairs that could only have been designed for +lovers.</p> + +<p>"But none have been there, yet," Elsie observed, +lingering on the stairs to contemplate +this last allurement. "Just think, Anthony, +that it is a mere débutante of a house with its +ball-book all unfilled. No one has sat before its +hearth, or nestled in its window-seat, or opened +its door to let in love or give out charity. It +is an Undine house whose soul has not yet entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">{250}</a></span> +its cool whiteness. Oh, I hope the people +who buy it are both fair and good, and respect +its innocence!"</p> + +<p>"Coral caves and Undines—your sentiment +is all deep-sea, to-day," he teased her. "Elsie, +doesn't all this make you want something?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she promptly returned looking over +her shoulder at him as she descended. "I want +something that I saw in the Antique Shop, yesterday. +Will you buy it for me?"</p> + +<p>"That depends. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"A guitar. A guitar that might have been +made to go with our ivory and jade chessmen, +for some heavy-lidded slave-girl to touch while +her master and his favored guest moved the +pieces on the board. It is <i>El Aud</i> of Arabia; all +opalescent inlay of mother-of-pearl, pegs and +frets marked with dull color. I am quite sure +it belonged to some Eastern princess; perhaps +Zaraya the Fair or Alenya of the Sea. It will +sing of court-yards in Fez where fountains +splash all the hot, still days, of midnight, in the +Alhambra gardens, and the nightingales of lost +Zahara. And the antiquarian person will sell it +for five dollars!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">{251}</a></span></p> + +<p>Adriance threw back his head and laughed, +beguiled from serious thoughts.</p> + +<p>"What a peroration! We will buy the thing +on our way home, Sunday or no Sunday. That +is, if you can play it for me, and if it will come +West enough for the sleepy, creepy song about +Maître Raoul Galvez that should never be sung +between midnight and dawn? I have never +heard that one, yet."</p> + +<p>"You shall," she promised. "And also the +song with which Alenya of the Sea charmed the +king from his sadness."</p> + +<p>"Tell me first who Alenya was."</p> + +<p>"To-night——"</p> + +<p>"No, now." Lightly, but with determination +he drew her across the threshold of the +room that opened beside them. Opposite its +rawly new, rose-tiled fireplace he pushed a tool-chest, +forgotten by some careless workman, +and spread over it his own coat, making a +fairly comfortable seat. "Sit here," he bade. +"You're tired, anyhow; and I have a fancy to +see you here."</p> + +<p>Surprised, but yielding to his whim with that +cordial readiness he loved in her, Elsie obeyed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">{252}</a></span> +Adriance established himself opposite, on the +comparatively clean tiles of the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Shoot," he commanded, lazily and colloquially +imperious. "Your sultan listens."</p> + +<p>She made a mutinous face at him and slowly +removed her hat, laying it beside her upon the +chest. Her gaze dwelt meditatively upon the +broad ray of sunlight that streamed across from +the nearest window and glittered between them +like a golden sword. Watching, Adriance saw +her gray eyes grow reminiscent.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will try to tell the story as my +father once told it to me. But whether he drew it +from those strange histories in which he is so +learned, or whether he drew it from his own +fancy, I do not know. For he is more poet than +professor, and more antiquarian than either—and +more dear than you can know until you meet +him, Anthony. Now imagine yourself in our +neglected old garden, and listen.</p> + +<p>"Long, long ago, before the beauty of Cava +brought the Moors across Gibraltar into Spain, +there lived in the East a king named Selim the +Sorrowful. The name was his alone. His kingdom +was as rich as vast; his people were content;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">{253}</a></span> +it seemed that all the country laughed except +its ruler. Upon him lay a vague, sinister +spell, and had so lain from the hour of his birth.</p> + +<p>"For always he grieved for a thing unknown, +a want undefined and unsatisfied. Royalty was +his, and youth, and absolute power, yet, because +of this great longing of his he moved like a beggar +through his splendor and knew hunger of +the heart by night and day. Wise men and temples +were questioned in vain, rich gifts vainly +sent to distant oracles; none could tell the king's +desire, or cure it. And his dark, wistful face +came to be accepted by his people as a thing +usual and royal.</p> + +<p>"One day, when the king walked alone in +his garden by the sea, a strange mist crept over +the land and water, silvery, opalescent, wonderful. +He stood, watching. Suddenly a gigantic +wave loomed through the haze and swept curling +and hissing shoreward to his very feet, +where it broke with a great sound. When the +glittering foam and spray fell away again, a +girl was standing on the sands before him; a girl +clad in the floating gray of the mist, girdled and +crowned with soft, dim pearls. Her lustrous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">{254}</a></span> +eyes were green as the heart of the ocean, and +when the king gazed into them his sorrow shrank +and fled.</p> + +<p>"'Who are you, desire of mine?' asked +Selim.</p> + +<p>"'Alenya of the Sea,' she answered him, +and her voice was the lap of waves on a summer +night.</p> + +<p>"Then the king took her in his arms and +bore her to his palace."</p> + +<p>"And she cured him?"</p> + +<p>"Better! She satisfied him. Never was a +change more marvellous; in all the kingdom +there was no man so happy as Selim the king. +Day and night, night and day, he lingered by +the sea-maiden. Riotous prosperity came to the +land, the fields yielded double crops; it seemed +that the king's smile was a very sunshine of the +South.</p> + +<p>"But by-and-by superstitious dread fell upon +the people, and the jealous priests fostered +it. Strange, strange and weirdly sweet was the +music that drifted from Alenya's apartments. +There came a day when the country demanded +that Selim put away the evil enchantress, or die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">{255}</a></span> +One month they gave him for the choice."</p> + +<p>"The men of the East were poor lovers," +commented Adriance. "He banished the sea-princess?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all! He chose death, and a month +with Alenya."</p> + +<p>"Well, if he lived one month exactly as he +willed, he had something."</p> + +<p>"Very true, cynical person. But never was +such month as his, when the lonely man still +possessed his love and the wearied king had +found an excitement. Intensity is the leap of a +flame, and cannot endure. When the end of the +four weeks came—" she paused, her dark little +head tilted back, her regard inviting his hazard.</p> + +<p>"They died?"</p> + +<p>"Alenya sang to the king for the last time. +There is no record of that lost music; it is so sad +that if it were written the paper would dissolve +in tears. When it ceased the king slept, and +Alenya flitted back to the sea and mist, alone. +Later came the people and awakened Selim with +their rejoicing, but he stared in cold amazement +at the pageant of their returning loyalty. He +had forgotten all."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">{256}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for Alenya's last song had swept her +image from his mind. From his mind, not his +heart; he was again Selim the Sorrowful, yearning +for the desire he did not know.</p> + +<p>"Often, often he wandered along the shore, +suffering, uncomprehending. It is written that +his reign was long, and wise. But on the night +he died his attendants found the print of a +small, wet hand on the pillow where rested the +king's white head."</p> + +<p>After a moment Adriance rose.</p> + +<p>"So he could not keep his own, when he had +it!" he said. "Thank you, Madame Scheherazade. +Now come outside and I'll tell you why +I wanted you to sit at that hearth, for luck."</p> + +<p>Laughing, she followed him, carrying her +hat in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Why, Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"Because I want this place for our home," +he answered.</p> + +<p>She uttered a faint exclamation, genuinely +dismayed.</p> + +<p>"Want it? Why it must be worth ten thousand +dollars, Anthony! See, it even has a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">{257}</a></span> +garage. And one would need servants; a maid-of-all-work, +at least."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am working for all that. A while +ago I thought I was certain of it. Now, I am +afraid not. But you are not going to live the +way we are now for much longer. Either I shall +win my game, and bring you here, or we will go +South and try a new venture."</p> + +<p>Amazed and hushed, she met his steady, +resolute gaze. She had not glimpsed this purpose +of his in all their intimate life together.</p> + +<p>"Do you—care to tell me about it?" she +wondered. "And, you know I am quite, quite +happy as we are; as I must be happy with you +always, win or lose, my dearest dear."</p> + +<p>The place was quite deserted; he kissed her, +before the blank windows of the house that +never had been lived in.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. "As I must be with you, +and am! But I will wait to tell you the rest, +until I can tell it all."</p> + +<p>She accepted the frank reticence. They +walked home more quietly than they had come, +each busied with thought.</p> + +<p>But Adriance did not forget to stop at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">{258}</a></span> +antique shop for the guitar. The proprietor +lived in the rear of the shabby frame building +and willingly admitted his two customers, after +examining them beneath a raised corner of the +sun-bleached green curtain.</p> + +<p>"The guitar?" he echoed Adriance's request. +"For madame? But certainly!"</p> + +<p>He produced the instrument from the window +with deferential alacrity. He was a thin, +bright-eyed French Jew; quite ugly and quite old +enough in appearance to justify Elsie's assertion +that he was the Wandering Jew and this +the very shop of Hawthorne's tale. She smiled +at him with a mischievous recollection of this, +as she pulled off her gloves to finger the rusty +strings.</p> + +<p>"It is a good guitar," she approved. "And +gay, with all this mother-of-pearl inlay and the +little colored stones set in the pegs! But these +wire strings must come off, Anthony. They are +too loud and too harsh."</p> + +<p>"It is so, madame," the old man nodded +entire agreement, before Adriance could speak. +"The guitar was used on the stage, where loudness——!" +He shrugged. "Never would you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> +guess, madame, who brought that instrument +in to me last week."</p> + +<p>"No?" Elsie wondered, politely interested.</p> + +<p>"It was that enormous Russian who formerly +rode beside your husband in the motor +wagon, madame. He has not a head, that +Michael, but he has a heart. About the cinés he +is mad—the moving pictures, I would say. Well +then, into the poor boarding-house where he +lives came an actress. She was out of work, +or she would not have been there, <i>bien sur</i>! +The guitar was hers. Michael brought it here +to sell for her. I believe she is sick. Because +she is of the stage, he is a slave to her."</p> + +<p>"He is in love?"</p> + +<p>"He, madame? It has not even occurred to +him. He would not presume."</p> + +<p>"Poor idealist!" said Adriance. "We will +take the theatrical guitar, but wrap it up so I +can get home without someone tossing me a +penny."</p> + +<p>He laughed as he spoke, and had forgotten +the guitar's story before they reached Alaric +Cottage. But Elsie neither laughed nor forgot. +That evening, as she sat across the hearth from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">{260}</a></span> +Anthony, evoking music gay or weird for his +enchantment, she thought much of the girl who +had last played her decorative instrument.</p> + +<p>"Is it my guitar, truly, Anthony?" she questioned, +at last.</p> + +<p>"It certainly isn't mine," he retorted teasingly.</p> + +<p>She made a grimace at him. But she also +made a resolve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">{261}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Russian Mike and Maître Raoul Galvez</span></h2> + + +<p>Russian Mike lived in a settlement perhaps +a mile back from the river road. He usually +passed the Adriances' house each morning, a +few moments earlier than the lighter-footed +Anthony set forth, whose swinging stride carried +him two steps to the big man's one. Elsie +had long since made acquaintance with her husband's +assistant. During the bitter weather she +frequently had called him from the snow-piled +road to warm his slow blood with a cup of her +vivifying Creole coffee. The Monday morning +following the purchase of the guitar, she knew +just when to run down the path and find the +bulky, lounging figure passing her gate.</p> + +<p>At the sight of the girl in her lilac-hued +frock, a drift of white-wool scarf wound about +her shoulders, her dark little head shining +almost bronze in the bright morning light, Mike +came to a halt and awkwardly jerked at his +coarse cap. It had flaps that fastened down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">{262}</a></span> +under his chin, so that he was embarrassed +equally by the difficulty of removing his headgear +and the <i>inconvenance</i> of remaining covered. +But Elsie's smile was a sunshine of the +heart that melted such chills of doubt, as she +came up to him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Michael. Thank you for +bringing back my kitty-puss, Saturday night. +She <i>will</i> run away, somehow."</p> + +<p>"It ain't nothing, ma'am," he deprecated, +confused, yet gratified.</p> + +<p>"It was very kind. Michael," she considerately +lowered her eyes to her breeze-blown +scarf, "yesterday Mr. Adriance bought a guitar +for me, from the antique shop. We heard where +it came from—how you brought it. Will you +tell the lady who owned it that I should be sorry +to keep a thing she might miss? Tell her, +please, that I hope she will soon grow well, and +when she is ready I shall be happy to return +the guitar to her. We will just play that she +lent it to me for a while."</p> + +<p>His rough face and massive neck slowly reddened +to match his fiery hair.</p> + +<p>"You, you——" he stammered, inarticulate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">{263}</a></span> +His mittened fist wrung the nearest fence paling. +"I ain't——! Thank you, lady."</p> + +<p>Mischief curled Elsie's lips like poppy petals, +as she contemplated the discomfited giant.</p> + +<p>"Is she very pretty, Michael?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," was the unexpected avowal. +"Not 'less she's dolled up for actin'. She's nice, +just. I guess many ain't like the swell one Andy +used to work for: dolled up any time."</p> + +<p>"Andy? Mr. Adriance? He never +worked——"</p> + +<p>"For an actress; yes, ma'am," finished +Mike, calmly assertive. "He treated her to tea, +the day after Christmas, when we was sent over +to New York. Ain't you seen her? Swell +blonde, with awful big sort of light eyes an' +nice clothes on?" He leaned against the frail +old fence, shutting his eyes reminiscently. "She +had on some kind of perfumery——! Since I +seen her, nobody else ain't very good-lookin'."</p> + +<p>"He treated her to tea?" Elsie faintly repeated. +She did not intend an espial upon +Anthony; the question was born of pain and +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"She ast him to. They went to a eatin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> +place an' I watched the truck. Tony, <i>she</i> called +him." Mike ponderously straightened himself +and prepared to depart. "I guess I'll get to +work, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Elsie nodded, and turning, crept back.</p> + +<p>Adriance had appeared on the threshold of +the cottage, his dog leaping about him in the +daily disappointed, daily renewed hope of +accompanying the worshipful master. He was +whistling and fumbling in his pockets for a +match, as he stood. But he was struck dumb +and motionless by the change in the pale girl +who turned from the gate. She seemed almost +groping her way up the path.</p> + +<p>"Elsie!" he called, springing down the +steps. "Why, Elsie?"</p> + +<p>To his utter dismay, she crumpled into his +extended arms, her eyes shut.</p> + +<p>He gathered her to him and swept her into +the house, himself sick with absolute panic. Illness +was so new to them; he did even know +of a doctor nearer than the stately and important +family physician in New York. He felt the +world rock beneath his feet; his world, which +held only his wife. Trembling, he laid her on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> +their bed and knelt beside it, her head still on +his arm.</p> + +<p>"Elsie!" he choked, his eyes searching her +face. "Girl!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the misery in his voice, perhaps +the anguish of love with which he clasped +her, but she moved in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered. "I—I shall be well, +in a moment."</p> + +<p>"You're not dying? Not in pain? What +can I do?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Wait a little. Put me down; I +must think."</p> + +<p>He obeyed, settling her among the pillows +with infinite tenderness. He dared not kiss her +lest he disturb recovery, but he carefully drew +the pins from her hair and smoothed out the +thick, soft ripples. He had a vague recollection +of reading somewhere that a woman's locks +should be unbound when she swooned. It was +in a novel, of course; still, it might be true. And +there was one panacea that he knew!</p> + +<p>Elsie did not open her eyes, but she heard +him rise and hurry into the other room. The +giddiness had left her now, and she could think.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">{266}</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course she had recognized Mike's portrait +of Lucille Masterson. She had seen the +other woman, lovely, imperious in assured +beauty; almost had breathed the rich odor of +her <i>Essence Enivrante</i>—which was not French +at all, but distilled in an upper room on Forty-second +street where individual perfumes were +composed for those who could pay well. Anthony +had gone to her, the day after Christmas. +The day after that Christmas! Lying there, +Elsie recalled how she and Anthony had gone +together to church in Yuletide mood and knelt +hand in hand in the bare little pew as simply +as children: "because they had found each +other." And then their first Christmas dinner +in their holly-decked house, when the puppy had +sat in rolypoly unsteadiness on Anthony's +knee, regaled with food that should have slain +him, while she laughed and remonstrated and +abetted the crime. The day after all that, the +day after he had given her the garnet love-ring, +Anthony had gone to Mrs. Masterson? Her +reason cried out against the absurdity. Yet, +he had gone.</p> + +<p>The clink of china hurriedly moved in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">{267}</a></span> +next room had ceased. Adriance came to the +bedside, leaning over to slip his arm carefully +under the pillow and raise the girl's head. In +his other hand he held a cup of hot tea, the +only medicine he knew.</p> + +<p>All his wife's heart melted toward him in +his helpless helpfulness. Suddenly she remembered +that he had come back to her from that +meeting. He had seen the invincible Lucille, +yet had returned to glorious content with his +wife. The ordeal she long had foreseen and +dreaded was over. She opened her eyes and +looked up at him quietly.</p> + +<p>He looked like a man who had been ill, and +his gaze devoured her, enfolded her.</p> + +<p>"What was it?" he asked unsteadily. +"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Anthony, why did you not tell me that you +met Mrs. Masterson?" she put her quiet question. +"Why did you leave me to hear it from +Michael?"</p> + +<p>Startled, he still continued to look down into +her eyes with no confusion in his own.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I should have told you," he +frankly admitted. "But it wasn't of any importance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">{268}</a></span> +and I—well, I cut such a poor figure +that I dodged exhibiting it to you. The woman +caught me on the Avenue and fairly bullied +me into a tea-room, with my collar wilted and +oily hands. I think she did it out of pure malice, +too, for she had nothing to say, after all. But—surely +<i>that</i> did not make you ill, Elsie?"</p> + +<p>"You never thought that I might mind your +going?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked simply. "What is it to +us? You don't, do you?"</p> + +<p>She put up her hands and clasped them behind his head.</p> + +<p>"Set down the tea," she laughed, tears in +her mockery, "or we will spill it between us. +Did you think me an inhuman angel, dear darling? +No, I don't mind; but I did."</p> + +<p>"Like that?" amazed. "So much?"</p> + +<p>"You keep remembering who Maît' Raoul +Galvez raised," she warned, her lips against +his. "I'm mighty jealous, man!"</p> + +<p>"But I love you," he stammered clumsily. +"That woman—she looked like a vixen! Poor +Fred!"</p> + +<p>Their first misunderstanding was passed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">{269}</a></span> +and left no shadow. By and by they drank the +cold tea together, and Elsie persuaded her nurse +to go to the factory as usual.</p> + +<p>"I was not sick, just full of badness," she +conscientiously explained. "Although it might +not have happened if I had been altogether just +the same as usual, Anthony."</p> + +<p>They talked over the affair at more leisure, +that evening. But they could find no reason for +Lucille Masterson's insistence upon that brief +interview with Anthony. Why had she forced +him to attend her? He could honestly assure +Elsie that Mrs. Masterson had made no attempt +to win him back to his former allegiance; rather, +she had taunted and antagonized him. As a +caprice, they finally classified and dismissed the +episode.</p> + +<p>What they did not dismiss from their +thoughts was the conversation they had held +in the new white house, the day they had bought +the guitar. They did not speak of Anthony's +ambitions, but Elsie came to speak often and +with freer enthusiasm of her native Louisiana. +Her husband saw through the innocent ruse +with keener penetration than she recognized,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">{270}</a></span> +and so far it failed. He understood that she +was cunningly preparing to make easy for him +their way of retreat, in case he lost his fight; +preparing to convince him that was the way +she most desired to go. He loved her the better; +and was the more obstinately determined +to force his own way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">{271}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Challenge</span></h2> + + +<p>Each day found Anthony less willing to +leave the place he had chosen. He did not want +to abandon the work commenced in the factory; +he had attained an active personal interest in +his progress there. He was well aware that he +would soon know more about some possibilities +of the mill than did Mr. Goodwin himself. His +father never had concerned himself at all with +such matters. Mr. Adriance was the converging-point +of the many lines forming a widespread +net of affairs in which this factory was +but one strand. He did not even find time to +notice Mr. Goodwin's advancing years and the +desire for retirement the old man was too proud +to voice. But the strand whose smallness was +disdained by the greater Adriance might well +prove able to support the lesser.</p> + +<p>An accident still further determined his wish +to remain. One day Mr. Goodwin came down +to the lower room; occupied the chair in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> +Adriance's enclosure for a quarter-hour and +watched the proceedings. These occasional +visits had done much to establish firmly +"Andy's" authority, yielding as they did the +manager's sanction to the new order of things. +But this time Mr. Goodwin had something to +say to the young man whom he and Cook had +grown to regard as a fortunate discovery of +their own.</p> + +<p>"Andy," he began, using the nickname as +Adriance himself had suggested on observing the +positive reluctance with which the old gentleman +handled familiarly the revered name of the +factory's owner; "Andy, to-morrow there will +be a meeting at the office of Mr. Adriance in New +York City; I shall be present." He cleared his +throat a trifle importantly. "I shall have pleasure +in mentioning the excellent, the really excellent, +work you have done here. I shall mention +you personally."</p> + +<p>Anthony carefully put down the papers he +held and stood still, trouble darkening across +his face. He saw what was coming, and he saw +no way to stop it. He did not want his father to +learn of his presence here from an outsider,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> +or at a public meeting. He wanted to tell Mr. +Adriance his own story, with their kinship to +help him. He wanted to explain Elsie to the +man who was championing Mrs. Masterson; he +wanted to tell him of the new Adriance to come. +He hardly thought it possible that his father +would deny him the simple opportunity he asked, +or try to force the monstrous wrong of a separation +between man and wife, if he understood. +But if the bare fact that Tony was secretly in +his employ were flung before him, Mr. Adriance +was quite capable of regarding this as an added +defiance and even mockery of himself. Mr. +Goodwin's speech flowed placidly on:</p> + +<p>"Your abilities are really exceptional, exceptional; +I am sure that they will be suitably +appreciated. You are doing much better work +than Ransome. I shall advise that I be allowed +to create a new position for you at a new salary. +I should like you to supervise the entire shipping +department on this floor, not merely the +trucking."</p> + +<p>"You are very good," Adriance murmured; +"I am not quite ready perhaps for that. By +the time the next meeting is held——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">{274}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have said that you were competent," Mr. +Goodwin reminded him with some stiffness. "I +am accustomed to judge such matters, pray +recollect. I am quite sure Mr. Adriance will +feel pleasure that a connection of his, even a +distant connection, should thus distinguish himself +from the ordinary employee."</p> + +<p>"No! That is—I should wish——" +Adriance caught himself stumbling, and colored +before the astonished eyes of the other. +"I mean to say, family influence cannot help me +in that way. Can you place the matter before +Mr. Adriance without using my name?"</p> + +<p>The older man chilled in severe amazement. +Very slowly he took off his <i>pince-nez</i> with fingers +a trifle uncertain.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," he said, rigidly. "Why +should I do so remarkable a thing?"</p> + +<p>That challenge was not easily answered. +The silence persisted unpleasantly. Through +the breach it made trickled a thin stream of +doubt, which rapidly grew to a full current of +suspicion. Still Adriance could find nothing to +reply, and the situation became more than embarrassing. +Mr. Goodwin at last arose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">{275}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I regret that I made this proposition," he +said. "Of course it was not in my calculations +that you had anything to conceal, especially +from Mr. Adriance. We will of course drop +the matter for the present."</p> + +<p>"You mean that I may continue here as I +am?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so. You will comprehend that it +becomes my duty to set this matter before Mr. +Adriance. It is not right that I should employ +in his name a man who fears to have his presence +here known to his employer. I will bid +you good-morning."</p> + +<p>This condition was worse than the first. +Recognizing himself as cornered, Adriance cast +a hurried glance around him, found no one +within ear-shot of his little enclosure, and took +a step toward the man about to leave him.</p> + +<p>"Wait! Mr. Goodwin, I am Tony Adriance."</p> + +<p>The little old gentleman stared at him +blankly.</p> + +<p>"My father does not know that I am here, +no one knows except my wife. Will you not sit +down again and listen to me?"</p> + +<p>Still Mr. Goodwin stared at him, dumb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">{276}</a></span> +Smiling in spite of his vexation and anxiety, +the young man quietly fronted the scrutiny. He +was quite aware that in his working clothes, his +hands evidencing his winter of manual labor, +his face dark with the tan of months of wind +and sun, he hardly looked the part he claimed; +that is, if Mr. Goodwin knew anything of the +former Tony Adriance. But he kept the candid +honesty of his eyes open to the other's reading, +and waited. Perhaps if those rather unusual +blue-black eyes he and his father had in common +had confronted Mr. Goodwin in the brightness +of daylight, he might before this have been +identified. At any rate, they convinced now, +even in the deceptive light.</p> + +<p>"There is a resemblance," murmured Mr. +Goodwin.</p> + +<p>"To my father? Yes, I think so; I have been +told so."</p> + +<p>"But—why——?"</p> + +<p>One of the usual interruptions called +Adriance away before he could reply. The old +gentleman sat dazed, watching him. When the +vehicle had passed on, Adriance turned back to +the other man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">{277}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I married without consulting my father, +last autumn," he said quietly. "Will you dine +with me to-night, Mr. Goodwin, at my own house +up the hill, and let me explain to you what I am +doing and why I am doing it? If you have any +doubt of my identity, you may easily fix it by +asking my father when you see him to-day +whether his son is at home or not."</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin found his voice with some difficulty.</p> + +<p>"No, I would prefer to understand before +I see Mr. Adriance. Come up to my private +office now; Cook can manage here for an hour +without you. I am astounded, even bewildered, +Andy—Mr. Adriance——"</p> + +<p>"Try 'Tony'," suggested the other with his +sudden smile.</p> + +<p>So while the indignant Cook struggled with +double duties, Adriance and Mr. Goodwin sat +opposite one another in the latter's private +office, and held long converse.</p> + +<p>With the exception of the Masterson side of +the affair, Adriance told the story without reserve. +He hoped to win Mr. Goodwin's temporary +silence, but he actually won more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">{278}</a></span> +he had imagined possible. Mr. Goodwin was +excited and interested as he had not been for +years. When Adriance concluded, the other was +quite the most agitated of the two.</p> + +<p>"You will not tell my father to-day of my +presence here, you will give me time to do so +myself?"</p> + +<p>"I will do better," said Mr. Goodwin, much +moved, "I will help you—I adopt you, as it +were. Mr. Adriance——"</p> + +<p>"Tony."</p> + +<p>"Tony, I will train you to succeed me here. +I wish much to retire, as I have told you. My +wife and I—we have no children—have long +planned to travel; we have even selected the +places we would visit and the routes we would +prefer to take. It has been, I might say, our +dream for years; but Mr. Adriance would not +listen to my desire to leave. He declares there +is no one he could trust in my place." Pride +colored the thin old face. "His esteem flatters +me; but now I will give him a successor whom +he can trust. It is very suitable that you should +have this position. I will say nothing to him, +as you wish; but do you enter my office here and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">{279}</a></span> +study the management of this concern with me. +I will myself take charge of that."</p> + +<p>Astonished in his turn, and deeply touched, +Adriance took the offered hand.</p> + +<p>"Of course you know I can find no words of +sufficient gratitude, Mr. Goodwin. If you will +indeed be so good you shall not find me lacking +so far as my abilities reach."</p> + +<p>"They have reached quite far already," said +his senior, drily.</p> + +<p>What had appeared a calamity had become +strange good fortune. Mr. Goodwin readily +satisfied any doubt he might have felt of Tony's +identity. Next morning when he would have +gone to his usual place, a clerk stopped him and +took him to Mr. Goodwin's private office, where +a desk awaited him.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is all my name, or rather my +father's," Adriance said to Elsie that night. +"There are a score of cleverer men than I +already there who will continue, I suppose, +plodding on as they are. Cook is one of them. +But I am not altruistic enough to throw away +the luck I have been born into, I am afraid. +I shall take all Goodwin will give me, and if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> +my father refuses to keep me there, at least the +training will make me more fitted to earn our +living in some other place."</p> + +<p>"Man, you have not enough vanity to nourish +you properly," Elsie gravely told him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin proved a harder taskmaster +than Cook or Ransome. He entered upon the +education of Tony Adriance with an enthusiastic +zest tempered with a conscientious severity +that made him exacting and meticulous in detail. +Adriance was fond enough of the outdoors +to miss the motor-truck at times—there +were even hours when he thought wistfully of +Russian Mike; but he learned rapidly under the +forced cultivation. Now he saw how superficial +had been the knowledge of the factory on which +he had prided himself in the shipping room, and +how absurdly inadequate to the management of +the great place he would have been had his +father put it in his hands. But under Mr. Goodwin +he was becoming in actuality what he once +had fancied himself to be. Incidentally the +teacher and the student grew cordially attached +to one another; and as this attachment was obvious, +as the new man was known in every department<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">{281}</a></span> +where he was sent to gather experience +as "Mr. Adriance," and as Mr. Goodwin +called him "Tony," his identity was soon no +secret in the factory. But the senior Adriance +never came in personal contact with any member +of the force except Mr. Goodwin, so this was +a matter of indifference. Adriance continued +to be entered on the books as a chauffeur, and +received the corresponding salary.</p> + +<p>The genuine chauffeurs whose comrade Andy +had been looked curiously after him and whispered +among themselves when, he chanced to +pass, although his greetings to them were the +same as always. Cook dropped the use of +"Andy," and said "sir" if the young man +spoke to him suddenly. Mr. Goodwin advised +his pupil to let such things pass without comment. +Either Anthony's position would be +assured and demand such deference, or he would +leave the factory altogether; in either case protest +would only be hypocritical or useless.</p> + +<p>The time when Anthony should go to his +father with an account of the affair, was indefinitely +postponed. The more accomplished +first, the better. Secretly, both he and Goodwin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">{282}</a></span> +had come to dread the possibility that Mr. +Adriance would refuse to continue Anthony in +his position, either through resentment or lack +of faith in Tony's ability.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Anthony felt a sharp misgiving +that perhaps the very preparation that fitted +him for the place he so much desired, would +deprive him of it. It was more than possible +that Mr. Adriance would keenly resent what +was being done without his knowledge. In a +sense Anthony was fortifying himself in his +father's own territory in order to resist the +older man's will in regard to Mrs. Masterson. +Anthony never learned to think without vicarious +shame and pain of the treachery his father +had planned against Elsie. He could not reconcile +that idea with anything their years together +had shown him of his father. But he worked +on and thrust from his mind what he could not +remedy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">{283}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Adriances</span></h2> + + +<p>The weeks ran quietly on, bringing spring +as the only visitor to the little red house. Masterson +had been invited to come, but he never +availed himself of the invitation. The Adriances +did not speak of him, by tacit agreement feigning +to forget the only painful evening they had +spent since their marriage.</p> + +<p>The event that fell like an exploding shell +into the tranquil household, shattering its accustomed +life as truly as if by material destruction, +came quite without warning. It chose one of the +first evenings of April, when a delicate, pastel-tinted +sunset was concluding the day as gracefully +as the <i>envoi</i> of a poem.</p> + +<p>Elsie was making ready for her husband, +much as she once had described to him a wife's +employment at this hour, and so all unconsciously +had cleansed the temple of his heart, +thrusting down the false idols to make a place +for herself. The table stood arrayed, she herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">{284}</a></span> +was daintily fresh in attire and mood; the +little house waited, expectant, for the man's +return. The soft flattery of love lapped +Adriance around whenever he crossed this +threshold; life had taught him a new luxury in +this bare school-room.</p> + +<p>Elsie was singing, as she went about her +pleasant tasks with the deft surety and swiftness +so pretty to watch; singing a lilting, inconsequent +Creole <i>chanson</i>, velvet-smooth as the +sprays of gray pussy-willow she presently began +to arrange in a squat, earthen jar. She was +happy with a deep, abiding, steadfast content, +and a faith that admitted no fear.</p> + +<p>She was listening, through all her occupations. +The crackle of Anthony's quick, eager +step on the old gravel walk would have brought +her at once to the door. But the sound of an +automobile halting before the gate passed unnoticed; +many cars travelled this road, day and +night. So, as before, Masterson came unheralded +into his friend's house. Only, this time +he found the door open and entered without +knocking. When his shadow darkened across +the room, Elsie turned and saw her visitor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">{285}</a></span></p> + +<p>Rather, her visitors. Masterson carried in +the curve of his arm a diminutive figure clad +in white corduroy from tasselled cap to small +leggings. The child's dimpled, ruddy-bright +cheek was pressed against the man's worn and +sallow young face, the shining baby-gaze looked +out from beside the fever-dulled eyes of the +other. A chubby arm tightly embraced Masterson's +neck.</p> + +<p>"Holly!" Elsie cried, the willow-buds slipping +through her fingers. "Why—how——? +Oh, how he has grown! Holly, baby, don't you +remember Elsie? He does, truly does—please +let me have him!"</p> + +<p>Masterson willingly relinquished his charge, +putting Holly into the eager arms held out, and +stood watching the ensuing scene of pretty nonsense +and affection. He did not speak or offer +interruption. When Elsie finally looked toward +him again, recovering recollection and curiosity, +baby and woman were equally rose-hued and +radiant.</p> + +<p>"But—how did it happen?" she wondered. +"Did—was the agreement kept, after all? Is +Holly to stay with you, now?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">{286}</a></span></p> + +<p>The man met her gaze with a strange blending +of defiance and entreaty. Now she perceived +his condition of terrible excitement and that his +dumbness had not been the apathy she fancied. +He was on the verge of a breakdown, perhaps +irreparable to mental health. Her question was +answered by her own quick perception before +he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I have stolen him. No! I did <i>not</i> steal +him; I took my own. It was in the park—he was +with a nurse, and she struck him. She didn't +know me. I had stopped to get a sight of him. +Well, that is all Lucille will ever give him: +nurses! She never wanted him, or had time to +trouble about him. She doesn't like children. +He stumbled, fell down, and the woman slapped +him—more than once."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a sense of helpless +inability either to aid or condemn. Every conscious +fibre in her championed his cause, except +her reason. How could this sick man hope to +keep Holly against the world?</p> + +<p>"You——?" she temporized.</p> + +<p>"I've told you what I did; I took him away +from her. 'Tell Mrs. Masterson that Holly has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">{287}</a></span> +gone with his father,' I said. That was all. I +carried him to my car and drove straight here. +You will keep him for me? You and Tony? I +have got to go; to get back and make my last +fight."</p> + +<p>Elsie gently set down the baby. She saw +what Masterson in his dazed and selfish absorption +overlooked: that she and Anthony were to +be drawn into a conflict surely evil for them. +Mrs. Masterson must resent this, and call on +the law to undo the kidnapping. She herself +and Anthony would be dragged from their +happy obscurity, their long honeymoon ended. +More menacing still, Anthony's position in his +father's factory would be discovered and exploited +by the newspapers, with the probable +result that Mr. Adriance would end that situation +by dismissing the impromptu employee.</p> + +<p>But she never even thought of sending Masterson +away. The baby hands that grasped her +dress grasped deeper at her heart. Also, this +man in need was Anthony's friend and one to +whom he owed atonement for a wrong contemplated, +if not committed.</p> + +<p>"Of course we will keep him," she promised,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">{288}</a></span> +kindly and naturally. "But you must stay, too. +You are not well and must rest for a while—it +is absurd to speak of fighting when you can +scarcely stand. Sit there, in that arm-chair. +Presently Anthony will come home, then we will +have supper and talk of all this."</p> + +<p>The serene good-sense calmed and cooled his +fever. Sighing, he relaxed his tenseness of attitude.</p> + +<p>"I must go," he repeated, but without resolution.</p> + +<p>For answer she drew forward the chair. He +sank into it and lay rather than sat among its +cushions, passive before her firmness.</p> + +<p>Elsie moved about the matter at hand with +her unfailing practicality. She took off Holly's +wraps and improvised a high-chair by means of +a dictionary and a pillow. To an accompaniment +of gay chatter she made ready her small +guest's evening meal, tied a napkin under the +fat chin and superintended the business of supping. +Hunger and sleep were contending before +the bread and milk and soft-boiled egg were +finished. Afterward, Elsie carried a very +drowsy little boy into her room and made him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">{289}</a></span> +a nest in her antique-shop four-posted bed. +Masterson looked on, mutely attentive to every +movement of the two as if some dramatic interest +lay in the simple actions. When Elsie returned +from the sleeping baby, he abruptly +spoke:</p> + +<p>"You know, I only mean you to keep him +for to-night, not always. I will come back for +him. You know all I planned for him and myself. +This has hurried me, but I have money +enough. Earned money. Did I tell you Mr. +Adriance, Tony's father, has offered me a considerable +sum to stop 'making a mountebank' +of myself at the restaurant? No? He has. I +fancy her former husband's occupation grates +on Lucille." He laughed, moving his head on +the cushions of the high-backed chair. "Well, +I refused."</p> + +<p>"Of course!"</p> + +<p>"You knew I would? Then you grant me +more grace than she did."</p> + +<p>"She? You said Mr. Adriance offered——"</p> + +<p>He glanced keenly at her face, then turned +his own face aside that it might not guide her +groping thought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">{290}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must go," he said, again. But he did not +move, nor did Elsie.</p> + +<p>The pause was broken by Anthony's whistle, +the signal which always advised his wife of his +return.</p> + +<p>But to-night it was not the blithe hail of +custom. The clear notes were shaken, curtly +eloquent of some anger or distress. Acutely +sensitive to every change or mood of his, Elsie +caught both messages, the intentional and the +one sent unaware. Dropping upon the table a +box of matches she had taken up, she ran to the +door.</p> + +<p>It opened before she reached it. Anthony, +his face dark with repressed anger, his movements +stiff with the constraint he forced upon +them, appeared outlined against the soft, clear +dusk of April twilight. He looked behind him, +and, holding open the door of his house formally +ushered in a guest.</p> + +<p>"My wife, sir," he briefly introduced to his +father the girl who drew back, amazed, before +their entrance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adriance showed no less evidence of inward +storm than his son. But he stopped and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">{291}</a></span> +saluted his daughter-in-law with precise courtesy.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Adriance," he acknowledged the presentation, +his voice better controlled than the +younger man's.</p> + +<p>"Light the lamp, Elsie," her husband requested, +dragging off the clumsy chauffeur's +gloves he had worn home. "It seems that we +are under suspicion of child-stealing. My father +has done us the honor of looking us up, to accuse +me of conniving at the kidnapping of Mrs. Masterson's +boy. I have not yet gathered exactly +what interest I am supposed to have in the lady +or her affairs, or whether I am presumed to be +engaged in a bandit enterprise for ransom. But +I understand that there is a detective outside, +who probably wishes to search the house."</p> + +<p>Elsie made no move to obey the command. +In the indeterminate light Masterson's presence +had been unnoticed, shadowed as he was by the +deep chair in which he sat. She was not afraid, +or bewildered so far as to conceive keeping him +concealed, but she was not yet ready to act.</p> + +<p>"My son is inexact, as usual," Mr. Adriance +gave her space, aiding her unaware by his irritation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">{292}</a></span> +"Mr. Masterson is known to have +crossed the Edgewater ferry with the child, +and we know of no friends he would seek +in this place except Tony and you. His brain +is hardly strong enough, now, to plan any extended +moves. Surely it needs no explanation +that we wish to rescue a two-year-old child from +the hands of a drug-crazed incompetent?"</p> + +<p>Elsie laid her hand over the match-box, wondering +that the other two did not hear, as she +did, the very audible breathing of the man in +the arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"He is hardly that," she deprecated. "But, +if you find him, what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"To him? Nothing. We want the child. +If he persists in annoying the lady who was his +wife, however, he must be put in a sanitarium."</p> + +<p>"Elsie, why do you not say that we know +nothing of all this?" Anthony demanded, harsh +in his strong impatience. "Why do you feed +suspicion by arguing? I don't say that I would +not shelter Holly Masterson, if he were here—in +fact, I should! But I do say that he is not +here, sir, and I expect my word to be taken. +Elsie——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">{293}</a></span></p> + +<p>His wife put out her hand in a quieting +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Now I will light the lamp," she stated, in +her full, calm voice.</p> + +<p>Oddly checked, the two angry men stood +watching her. The flame-touched wick burned +slowly, at first, the light rising gradually to its +full power; the circle of radiance crept out and +up, warmed by the crimson shade through which +it passed. It crept like a bright tide, shining +on the figure of the woman who stood behind the +table, rising over the noble swell of her bosom, +submerging the curved hollow of her throat +where a small ebony cross lay against a surface +of ivory, flooding at last her face set in generous +resolution and glinting in her gray, serenely +fearless eyes. She looked, and was mistress of +the place and situation; perhaps because of all +those present she alone was not thinking of +herself.</p> + +<p>"You see," she broke the pause, "there was +much excuse. It is always wiser and kinder to +listen to the excuse for actions; I think usually +there is one. Mr. Masterson loves his little son +very dearly, and that they have been separated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">{294}</a></span> +is terrible to him. But he was patient, he did +not interfere until to-day; he saw Holly struck +and roughly treated by the nurse. He could not +bear that, and just look on. No one could! So +Mr. Masterson, obeying his first impulse, +snatched up the baby, and he did bring him +here. It was only a little while ago, Anthony; a +very little while."</p> + +<p>Before either Adriance could speak, the third +man lifted himself out of the shadows into the +light. He was laughing slightly, all his reckless, +too-feminine beauty somehow restored as +he faced them.</p> + +<p>"Here is your drug-crazed incompetent, Mr. +Adriance," he mocked. "Have you succeeded +so well in training your own son that you want +to undertake bringing up mine?"</p> + +<p>The insult changed the atmosphere to that of +crude war. Elsie drew back, recognizing this +field was not for her. Mr. Adriance considered +his antagonist with a deliberation cold and very +dangerous.</p> + +<p>"I think a comparison between my son and +yourself is hardly one you can afford to challenge," +he said bitingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">{295}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, no," Masterson admitted. He laughed +again. "But a year ago—who was the best citizen, +then? Fred Masterson, with all his shortcomings, +or Tony Adriance, dangling after Masterson's +wife? Hold on, Tony! I'm not saying +this for you; you quit the nasty game as soon as +you saw where it was leading. I'm only explaining +to your father, here, that the difference +between you and me is chiefly—our wives. Of +course we ought not to lean on our women; we +ought to be strong and independent. But I was +not born that way, and neither were you. +Lucille wanted me down, and I am down; Mrs. +Adriance wanted you up, and you're standing +up. Be honest, and out with the truth to yourself, +if you never speak it, Tony. As for your +father, if our guardians had started us differently, +it might not have been this way with us. +I don't know, but that is the chance I am giving +Holly. He shall not have to pick up his education +on the road. I have brought him here, +and here he stays with Mrs. Adriance until I +take him away with me. She has given me her +promise."</p> + +<p>"You forget that the court has given the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">{296}</a></span> +child to its mother," Mr. Adriance reminded +him, before Anthony could reply. "And let me +tell you I have nothing except contempt for a +man who foists off his responsibilities upon a +woman's shoulders."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I," retorted Masterson. "Did +you imagine I had any vanity left, or that my +self-respect still breathed? You are dull, Mr. +Adriance! But all that is aside from the case. +Holly stays here, unless Anthony turns him out, +and then he goes with me, not with his mother. +Do you think I fail to understand why she wants +him, and you want her to have him? It is because +he is a social vindication; her possession +of him brands me as the one found lacking in our +partnership. Well, he is not to be so sacrificed."</p> + +<p>"May I ask how you intend to enforce this?"</p> + +<p>"You may, and I will tell you." He looked +return in full measure of the older man's irony +and determination. "I can enforce it because +you care about the public at large, and I do +not; because it would make a beautiful sob +story: how Holly's reprobate father rescued him +from neglect and ill-treatment, taking him away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">{297}</a></span> +from a brutal nurse in the Park; and how Mr. +Adriance, <i>the</i> Mr. Adriance, pursued and recaptured +the child. The newspapers would be +interested in learning that Mr. Adriance had +managed the whole Masterson divorce case; +with his usual tact and success. They might wonder +why he had done it. I have wondered, myself, +you know. That is, I might have wondered, +if I had not known how much you once approved +of Mrs. Masterson as a possible daughter-in-law, +before Tony disappointed you by marrying +to please himself. You have the reputation of +never admitting a defeat; and, after all, two +divorces are as right as one! I beg your pardon, +Mrs. Adriance."</p> + +<p>Elsie uttered a faint cry, abruptly confronted +with the hideous thing Masterson had +shown her husband on the night that had +changed Anthony from her playfellow to her +defender and fightingman.</p> + +<p>"Fred!" Anthony exclaimed indignant rebuke, +springing to the girl's side.</p> + +<p>She caught his arm fiercely, as it clasped +her. Suddenly she was one with the men in +mood, burning with defiance and alert to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> +war for her own. And Anthony was her own, +as she was his. Pressing close to her husband +she held him. Arrayed together, the three who +had youth stood against the man who had everything +else.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Adriance had reddened through his +fine, gray, slightly withered skin like any schoolboy. +His dark eyes lightened and hardened +to an unforgiving grimness of wrath that +dwarfed the younger men's passion and made +it puerile.</p> + +<p>"You will restrain yourself in speaking of +the lady who had the misfortune to marry you," +he signified, with a clipped precision of speech +more menacing than any threat. "Since yesterday +she has been my wife."</p> + +<p>Of all the possibilities, this most obvious one +never had occurred to any of the three who +heard the announcement. The effect held the +group dumb. All thought had to be readjusted, +all recent experience focussed to this new range +of vision. In the long pause, Anthony's dog +yawned with the ridiculous sigh and snap of +happy puppyhood; ticking clock and singing +kettle seemed to fill the room with a swell of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">{299}</a></span> +commonplace, domestic sound derisive of all +complicated life. After all, men were simple, +and involved evil usually a chimera. Plots and +counterplots resolved into a most natural happening; +thrown into companionship with Lucille +Masterson by Anthony's flight, Mr. Adriance +had fallen in love. Probably at first he had +aided her through sympathy, as Anthony himself +had done. There was no mystery in the +rest.</p> + +<p>The reckless challenge and false gayety died +out of Masterson's face, leaving it dull and +bleak as a stage when the play is over and the +artificial light and color extinguished. Quite +suddenly he looked haggard and appallingly ill. +Circles darkened beneath his eyes as if dashed +in by the blue crayon of an artist. He was conquered; +with his fancied right to resentment +and contempt he also lost all animation. The +fire was quenched, apparently forever.</p> + +<p>"I apologize, of course," he said, his lifeless +ease a poor effort at his former manner. "Certainly +I would have been—well, less frank, if I +had understood. Pray convey my congratulations +to Mrs. Adriance. No doubt you will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">{300}</a></span> +happy, since you can buy everything she wants. +But neither you nor she can care to keep Holly +Masterson in your house. I want him. After +all, I am his father, you know, and entitled to +some direction of his future. No? Come, I'll +bargain with you! Leave him here, and I will +do what I refused to do for money: I will quit +public dancing and drop out of sight."</p> + +<p>The unexpected offer allured. The wrath +in the eyes of Mr. Adriance did not lessen, but +speculation crept into his regard. His abhorrence +of scandal urged him to grasp at this +escape from having his wife's name constantly +linked with the escapades of her first husband. +There could be no question of Masterson's +genius for spectacular trouble-making. Moreover, +Holly would still be with the Adriances, +so that dignity was assured. He did not believe +that Masterson really intended to burden himself +with the child. Lucille Masterson had +formed his opinion of the other man; he credited +him with no intention good or stable.</p> + +<p>"Of course I must consult Mrs. Adriance," +he answered stiffly. "But I have no doubt that +she will meet your wishes in the matter, since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">{301}</a></span> +Tony is now the child's step-brother. That is, +if my son and his wife are willing to undertake +the charge you thrust upon them?"</p> + +<p>He turned toward the two, as he concluded. +For the first time, the Adriance senior and +junior, really looked at each other as man at +man. For "Tony" no longer existed; in his +place was someone the elder did not yet know. +Indeed, he and Tony had been merely pleasant +acquaintances; he and this new man were +strangers.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," Anthony replied to the indirect +question. He had regained his composure +as the others had lost theirs. His cool +steadiness and poise contrasted strongly with +the strained tension of his guests; he spoke for +both himself and Elsie with the assured masterfulness +she had nursed to life in him during +these many months. "We will take charge of +Holly until his father claims him, unless it is +going to be too difficult for me to take care of +my own family. As you may see, sir, we are +not rich."</p> + +<p>"Is that my affair?"</p> + +<p>"It has not been. But it is going to be."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">{302}</a></span></p> + +<p>"As a question of money——"</p> + +<p>Anthony checked the sentence with a gesture. +Gently freeing himself from Elsie's clasp upon +his arm, he drew from a pocket of his rough +coat that notebook which had absorbed so many +of his leisure hours.</p> + +<p>"Let us say a question of business," he suggested. +"Six months ago I entered your employ +as a chauffeur. You will find my record has no +marks against it. I did not think at that time +of drawing any advantage from the fact that +the mill belonged to you; I worked exactly as I +must have done for any stranger. I was not +late or absent, I accomplished rather more each +day than the average chauffeur in the place. +Cook and Ransome can tell you whether I gave +them satisfaction. I only speak of this, sir, +because I should like you to understand that I +was in earnest. It was not until months had +passed at this work that I began to think of +changing my position. One day Ransome fell +sick. I asked for his place to try out a better +system of checking the shipping that had occurred +to me. I was given this at first tentatively, +then permanently. In fact, the system<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">{303}</a></span> +worked so successfully that—Mr. Goodwin came +to see me." He hesitated. "I wish you would +ask Mr. Goodwin to tell you himself something +of what has happened."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>The laconic assent was somehow disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"I had to tell him who I was," Anthony resumed, +with less certainty, "I had meant to +find out what your attitude would be, before that +happened, but I had no choice. He was good +enough to take me into his office and offer to +teach me the management of your factory. +Now——"</p> + +<p>"Now, since it is a matter of business," said +Mr. Adriance, dryly, "what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want a stranger's chance, and your pull," +was the prompt return; Anthony's smile flashed +across seriousness. "That is, I want your influence +to give me Mr. Goodwin's position as +manager, and after that I am willing to stand +on the basis of my business value to you. Goodwin +is old and anxious to retire. If I hold his +place for a year and fail to earn his salary, then +discharge me and I'll not complain. I know this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">{304}</a></span> +end of your business as you do not, sir. You +are brilliant, a genius of big affairs; I have +discovered in myself a capacity for meticulous +attention to detail. Will you take this little +book home with you? It contains a collection of +notes and figures for which you would gladly +pay an outsider. Mr. Goodwin and I have found +the plant is enormously wasteful; every department +contributes its quota of mismanagement, +except the office under his own eye. +I want a chance to do this work, to buy a house +I like up on the hill, here, and put my delicate +Southern wife in a setting suitable for her. +Will you let me earn all this?"</p> + +<p>"I am not aware that it has been my custom +to interfere with you," retorted Mr. Adriance. +He eyed his son with icy disfavor. "Between +you and Mr. Masterson it appears to be established +that I am the typical oppressor of fiction +and melodrama. Kindly look at the other side +of the shield. Last autumn you chose to marry +and leave my house. You did both, without paying +me the trifling courtesy of announcing your +intentions. I knew of no quarrel between us. +The rudeness appeared to me quite without warrant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">{305}</a></span> +Nevertheless, I tied all the loose ends +you had left behind. I kept your marriage from +furnishing a sensation to the journals. The +lady who is now my wife helped me in convincing +our friends that your wedding was in no way +unusual or unexpected, if a little sudden, and +that you had met the young lady from Louisiana +at her house. In short, I smothered curiosity, +a task with which you had not concerned yourself. +You choose to enter this place as a truck +driver. You did not ask if that were pleasant to +me. It was not, but I made no objection. Oh, +yes; of course I have known what you were +doing! Why should I not know? Now, you +meet me with the air of a man hampered and +pursued. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I was wrong," admitted Anthony, simply. +He had flushed hotly before the rebuke, but his +eyes met his father's frankly and with a relief +that gladly found himself at fault rather than +the other. "I did not understand. I am sorry."</p> + +<p>They shook hands. A constraint between +them was not to be avoided. The marriage of +the older man had thrust them apart. Unforgiveable +things had been said of Lucille<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">{306}</a></span> +Adriance; things that had the biting permanence +of truth.</p> + +<p>"I will arrange for Goodwin's retirement," +Mr. Adriance remarked. "You will take his +place, and this winter's work may pass as your +whim to study the business from the bottom. +I spent an hour discussing your affairs with him, +on my way here, to-night. I had called on him +to ascertain your exact address. He has agreed +to remain as your adviser and assistant for a +month or two, until you have quite found yourself. +And of course I will be at your service. +That is enough for this evening; I have already +stayed here too long. Come to my office to-morrow."</p> + +<p>When he turned toward the door, Elsie was +awaiting him. A moment before she had slipped +away from the two men.</p> + +<p>"This is the first time you have been in +Anthony's house," she said, her soft speech +very winning. "You aren't going without taking +our hospitality?"</p> + +<p>She held a little round tray on which stood +a cup and plate. The action was gracious and +graceful, quaintly alien as her own legends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">{307}</a></span> +Mr. Adriance gazed at her, then bowed ceremoniously, +lifted the coffee and drank.</p> + +<p>"I think I had forgotten to congratulate +Tony," he regretted. "Allow me to do so, most +warmly."</p> + +<p>Anthony closed the door behind his guest; +presently the sound of a starting motor ruffled +the calm hush of the spring evening.</p> + +<p>"I want my supper," Anthony announced, +practically. "I shall not have any more of +your cooking, Elsie. What are you going to do +with your idle time—learn to play bridge?"</p> + +<p>She ran into his arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">{308}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Cornerstone</span></h2> + + +<p>When they looked for Fred Masterson, he +was not there. Elsie remembered, then, that +he had gone into Holly's room while Anthony +and his father were intent on each other. On +the bed where the baby was asleep they found +an envelope upon which was scrawled a message.</p> + +<p>"I'm off for the present," Anthony read. +"I'll drop in to-morrow or next day, when +Holly is awake. Thank Mrs. Adriance for me. +I'm going to be old-fashioned, Tony—God bless +you both."</p> + +<p>"He never will come, I know it!" Elsie exclaimed, +her heavy lashes wet. "Can't we do +something? Can't we go after him?"</p> + +<p>"I will go after him," her husband agreed. +"But not to-night." He crumpled the envelope +and flung it aside. "Fred Masterson is not +going under without a fight. If doctors, sanitariums, +his love for Holly and our help can +set him on his feet again, he shall be cured and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">{309}</a></span> +do all he dreams of doing. To-morrow I will +find him."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. Elsie, don't you understand? +He loved his wife. If I lost you so—if +you married someone else——"</p> + +<p>She put her small fingers across his lips, stilling +the sacrilege.</p> + +<p>"No! Do not let our little house even hear +you say it!"</p> + +<p>"Nor any house of ours! To-morrow I will +buy the house we looked at together, and you +shall have an orgy of shopping to furnish it. +Oh, yes, you shall, and I'll help you. Have lots +of dark red things and brown leather in that +front room where you told me about Alenya +of the Sea. And—do nurseries have to be +pink?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not, foolish one. We might make +ours sunshine-color, like the satiny inside of a +buttercup or a drop of honey in a daffodil. Anthony——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>The rain-gray eyes laughed up at him, demure +and daring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">{310}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Please, I want a cloak all gorgeous without +and furry within; a shimmery, glittery, useless +brocaded cloak like those in the cloak-room of +that restaurant. I—I just want it!"</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" he wondered at her. +"How do you always know the gracious way to +delight me most? What a time we are going +to have, girl! I'm going to drag Cook out of +his rut and start him up the ladder, for one +thing. If he hadn't given me a chance, and then +brought Mr. Goodwin down to see how I handled +it, who can tell how much I might have missed? +I shall bring him here for you to see, before we +move, too. You won't mind?"</p> + +<p>"Try it and see."</p> + +<p>"And we will spend my first vacation in +Louisiana! Can't we take a trunkful of junk +to each girl—including your mother? Let's +bribe a publisher to bring out the poetic drama, +if it's ever finished. Ah, be ready to come to +Tiffany's next week. I'm going to buy you a +ruby as big as the diamond advertisements on +the backs of the magazines."</p> + +<p>"Anthony!"</p> + +<p>"Two of them!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">{311}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear," she hesitated, "are we going to +have so much money? I do not quite see——"</p> + +<p>Her husband looked at her, and laughed.</p> + +<p>"You haven't learned to understand your +father-in-law. I have not mastered that study, +myself, but I know some branches. He is not a +half-way man. He will expect Tony and Mrs. +Tony to proceed precisely as Tony used to do. +And we will offend and disgust him with our +small-mindedness if we do not take this for +granted. When I remember the things I allowed +Fred to make me believe of him! Elsie, I always +could have earned our living somehow; I think +the best news to-night was that my father is as +fine as I grew up to believe him. By George, I +never told him——"</p> + +<p>"What, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They had almost finished their delayed supper, +an hour later, when Adriance set down his +cup with an exclamation and stared across the +table at his wife.</p> + +<p>"I have just thought of something! Now I +understand what Lucille Masterson wanted of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">{312}</a></span> +me, that day, in the tea-room. She made me give +my word never to tell anyone that she had been +willing to marry me. I was angry enough that +she should suppose such a promise necessary. +But now I can see the reason: she feared I might +tell my father enough of that affair to prevent +his falling in love with her. You do not know +him, Elsie. If he had suspected her attachment +to him was greed, and that she had been willing +to marry either Adriance for the Adriance possessions, +he would have suffered nothing to +bring them together, nothing whatever. I suppose +she told him she never thought of me except +as a pleasant young fool. Think of us!" He +pushed back his chair and took an angry turn +across the room. "Fred, and I, and my father—all +puppets for her to move about!"</p> + +<p>"Holly has Mrs. Masterson, and I have you," +Elsie demurred, her mouth curling into a smile +as her glance followed him. "And I do not believe +she has your father, Anthony; I think he +has her. You know—excuse me, dear—both you +and Fred Masterson were too young and inexperienced. +And your father heard, in spite of +himself, Mr. Masterson's story, this evening.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">{313}</a></span> +I'm going to borrow a sentence from Mike: +'She's got her a boss.' Let the mills grind; we +know what grain we put in! Anthony, did you +notice that I gave your father coffee in the +Vesuvius cup? If he noticed its five-cent atrocity, +he will ostracize me; and you know who +bought it."</p> + +<p>"It is a good cup!" He dropped into his +chair again and leaned across the table to catch +her hands in his. "Elsie, we will never sell this +house, or change anything in it, will we? We +can come back to it, often, for just a day. It +was the beginning place, however far we go."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, yes! Anthony, our hearthstone is +our cornerstone; on it we're going to build, +build splendidly, eternally——"</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered before the vision. Silent, +the two looked into each other's eyes, seeing a +happiness strongly secured, closing them around +like folded wings.</p> + + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Finis</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S<br /> +New and Forthcoming Books</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Peg Along</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By GEORGE L. WALTON, M.D. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Dr. Walton's slogan, "Why Worry," swept the country. +His little book of that title did an infinite amount of good. +"Peg Along" is the 1915 slogan. Hundreds of thousands +of fussers, fretters, semi- and would-be invalids, and all +other halters by the wayside should be reached by +Dr. Walton's stirring encouragement to "peg along." In +this new book he shows us how to correct our missteps of +care, anxiety, fretting, fear, martyrism, over-insistence, +etc., by teaching us real steps in the chapters on work +and play, managing the mind, Franklin's and Bacon's +methods, etc., etc. Send copies of this inspiring little work +to friends who appreciate bright wisdom. Win them into +joyful, happy "peggers along" to health and happiness.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Under the Red Cross Flag</p> + +<p style="font-size: large;">At Home and Abroad</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By MABEL T. BOARDMAN, Chairman of the National Relief +Board, American Red Cross.</b></p> + +<p><b>Foreword by PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON.</b></p> + +<p><b>Fully illustrated. Decorated cloth. Gilt top. $1.50 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>The American Red Cross and the name of Miss Boardman +have been inseparably connected for many years; her own +story is one of fascinating human interest to all who feel a +bond of sympathy with those who suffer. To-day it is +the European War, but in unforgotten yesterdays there +was the Philippine Typhoon, the Vesuvian Eruption, the +Chinese Famine, and almost countless other disasters +in which the heroes and heroines of the Red Cross have +worked and met danger in their effort to alleviate the +sufferings of humanity. This is the only complete historical +work upon the subject that has yet been written; +no one, accounting experience and literary ability, is +better fitted to present the facts than is the author.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph Pennell's Pictures +In the Land of Temples</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>With 40 plates in photogravure from lithographs. Introduction +by W. H. D. Rouse, Litt.D. Crown quarto. Lithograph on +cover. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Mr. Pennell's wonderful drawings present to us the +immortal witnesses of the "Glory that was Greece" just +as they stand to-day, in their environment and the golden +atmosphere of Hellas. Whether it be the industrial giants +portrayed in "Pictures of the Panama Canal" or antique +temples presented in this fascinating volume, the great +lithographer proves himself to be a master craftsman of +this metier. The art of Greece is perhaps dead, but we +are fortunate in having such an interpreter. There is +every promise that this book will have the same value +among artists and book lovers as had his others.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where burning Sappho loved and sung,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>have never had a more appreciative and sympathetic lover.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Christmas Carol</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By CHARLES DICKENS. 13 illustrations in color and many +in black and white by Arthur Rackham. Octavo. Decorated +cloth. $1.50 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>All the praise that can be showered upon Joseph Pennell +as a master lithographer, is also the due mead of Arthur +Rackham as the most entrancing and mysterious color +illustrator in Europe. His work is followed by an army +of picture lovers of all types and of all ages, from the +children in the nurseries whose imagination he stirs with +the fiery-eyed dragons of some fairy illustration, to the +ambitious artists in every country who look to him as an +inspiring master.</p> + +<p>If the decision had been left to the book-reading and +picture-loving public as to the most eligible story for +treatment, we believe that the Christmas Carol would +have been chosen. The children must see old Scrooge +and Tiny Tim as Rackham draws them.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Historic Virginia Homes +and Churches</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By ROBERT A. LANCASTER, JR. About 300 illustrations and +a photogravure frontispiece. Quarto. In a box, cloth, gilt top, +$7.50 net. Half morocco, $12.50 net. A Limited Edition printed +from type, uniform with the Pennells' "Our Philadelphia."</b></p></div> + +<p>Virginians are justly proud of the historical and architectural +glories of the Old Dominion. All America looks +to Virginia as a Cradle of American thought and culture. +This volume is a monument to Virginia, persons and places, +past and present. It has been printed in a limited edition +and the type has been distributed. This is not a volume +of padded value; it is not a piece of literary hack-work. +It has been a labor of love since first undertaken some +twenty-five years ago. The State has done her part by +providing the rich material, the Author his with painstaking +care and loving diligence, and the Publishers theirs +by expending all the devices of the bookmaker's art.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Quaint and Historic +Forts of North America</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By JOHN MARTIN HAMMOND, Author of "Colonial Mansions +of Maryland and Delaware." With photogravure frontispiece +and sixty-five illustrations. Ornamental cloth, gilt top, +in a box. $5.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This is an unique volume treating a phase of American +history that has never before been presented. Mr. Hammond, +in his excellent literary style with the aid of a +splendid camera, brings us on a journey through the existing +old forts of North America and there describes their +appearances and confides in us their romantic and historic +interest. We follow the trail of the early English, French +and Spanish adventurers, and the soldiers of the Revolution, +the War of 1812 and the later Civil and Indian Wars. +We cover the entire country from Quebec and Nova Scotia +to California and Florida, with a side trip to Havana to +appreciate the weird romance of the grim Morro Castle. +Here is something new and unique.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Magic of Jewels and Charms</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By GEORGE FREDERICK KUNZ, A.M., PH.D., D.SC. +With numerous plates in color, doubletone and line. Decorated +cloth, gilt top, in a box. $5.00 net. Half morocco, $10.00 +net. Uniform in style and size with "The Curious Lore of +Precious Stones." The two volumes in a box, $10.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>It will probably be a new and surely a fascinating subject +to which Dr. Kunz introduces the reader. The most +primitive savage and the most highly developed Caucasian +find mystic meanings, symbols, sentiments and, above +all, beauty in jewels and precious stones; it is of this magic +lore that the distinguished author tells us. In past ages +there has grown up a great literature upon the subject—books +in every language from Icelandic to Siamese, from +Sanskrit to Irish—the lore is as profound and interesting +as one can imagine. In this volume you will find the +unique information relating to the magical influence which +precious stones, amulets and crystals have been supposed +to exert upon individuals and events.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Civilization of Babylonia +and Assyria</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By MORRIS JASTROW, JR., PH.D., LL.D. 140 illustrations. +Octavo. Cloth, gilt top, in a box, $6.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This work covers the whole civilization of Babylonia +and Assyria, and by its treatment of the various aspects +of that civilization furnishes a comprehensive and complete +survey of the subject. The language, history, +religion, commerce, law, art and literature are thoroughly +presented in a manner of deep interest to the general +reader and indispensable to historians, clergymen, anthropologists +and sociologists. The volume is elaborately +illustrated and the pictures have been selected with the +greatest care so as to show every aspect of this civilization, +which alone disputes with that of Egypt, the fame of +being the oldest in the world. For Bible scholars the +comparisons with Hebrew traditions and records will have +intense interest.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">English Ancestral Homes of +Noted Americans</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By ANNE HOLLINGSWORTH WHARTON, Author of "In +Chateau Land," etc., etc. 28 illustrations. 12mo. Cloth $2.00 +net. Half morocco, $4.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Miss Wharton so enlivens the past that she makes the +distinguished characters of whom she treats live and talk +with us. She has recently visited the homelands of a number +of our great American leaders and we seem to see upon +their native heath the English ancestors of George Washington, +Benjamin Franklin, William Penn, the Pilgrim +Fathers and Mothers, the Maryland and Virginia Cavaliers +and others who have done their part in the making +of the United States. Although this book is written in an +entertaining manner, and with many anecdotes and by-paths +to charm the reader, it is a distinct addition to the +literature of American history and will make a superb gift +for the man or woman who takes pride in his or her library.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Heroes and Heroines of Fiction +Classical, Mediaeval and Legendary</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By WILLIAM S. WALSH. Half morocco, Reference Library +style, $3.00 net. Uniform with "Heroes and Heroines of Fiction, +Modern Prose and Poetry." The two volumes in a box, +$6.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>The fact that the educated men of to-day are not as +familiar with the Greek and Roman classics as were their +fathers gives added value to Mr. Walsh's fascinating compilation. +He gives the name and setting of all the anywise +important characters in the literature of classical, +mediæval and legendary times. To one who is accustomed +to read at all widely, it will be found of the greatest assistance +and benefit; to one who writes it will be invaluable. +These books comprise a complete encyclopedia of interesting, +valuable and curious facts regarding all the characters +of any note whatever in literature. This is the +latest addition to the world-famous Lippincott's Readers' +Reference Library. Each volume, as published, has become +a standard part of public and private libraries.</p> + + +<p class='center' style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>A Wonderful Story of Heroism</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Home of the Blizzard</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By SIR DOUGLAS MAWSON. Two volumes. 315 remarkable +photographs. 16 colored plates, drawings, plans, maps, etc. +8vo. $9.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Have you heard Sir Douglas lecture? If you have, you +will want to read this book that you may become better +acquainted with his charming personality, and to preserve +in the three hundred and fifteen superb illustrations with +the glittering text, a permanent record of the greatest +battle that has ever been waged against the wind, the +snow, the crevice ice and the prolonged darkness of over +two years in Antarctic lands.</p> + +<p>It has been estimated by critics as the most interesting +and the greatest account of Polar Exploration. For instance, +the London Athenæum, an authority, said: "No +polar book ever written has surpassed these volumes in +sustained interest or in the variety of the subject matter." +It is indeed a tale of pluck, heroism and infinite endurance +that comes as a relief in the face of accounts of the same +qualities sacrificed in Europe for a cause so less worthy.</p> + +<p>To understand "courage" you must read the author's +account of his terrific struggle alone in the blizzard,—an +eighty-mile fight in a hurricane snow with his two companions +left dead behind him.</p> + +<p>The wild life in the southern seas is multitudinous; whole +armies of dignified penguins were caught with the camera; +bluff old sea-lions and many a strange bird of this new +continent were so tame that they could be easily approached. +For the first time actual colored photographs +bring to us the flaming lights of the untrodden land. They +are unsurpassed in any other work.</p> + +<p>These volumes will be a great addition to your library; +whether large or small, literary or scientific, they are an +inspiration, a delight to read.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Heart's Content</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By RALPH HENRY BARBOUR. Illustrations in color by +H. Weston Taylor. Page Decorations by Edward Stratton Holloway. +Handsome cloth binding. In sealed packet. $1.50 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This is the tale of a summer love affair carried on by an +unusual but altogether bewitching lover in a small summer +resort in New England. Allan Shortland, a gentleman, +a tramp, a poet, and withal the happiest of happy men, +is the hero; Beryl Vernon, as pretty as the ripple of her +name, is the heroine. Two more appealing personalities +are seldom found within the covers of a book. Fun and +plenty of it, romance and plenty of it,—and an end full +of happiness for the characters, and to the reader regret +that the story is over. The illustrations by H. Weston +Taylor, the decorations by Edward Stratton Holloway and +the tasteful sealed package are exquisite.</p> + + +<p class='center' style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>A New Volume in THE STORIES +ALL CHILDREN LOVE SERIES</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Heidi</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By JOHANNA SPYRI. Translated by ELISABETH P. +STORK. Introduction by Charles Wharton Stork. With eight +illustrations in color by Maria L. Kirk. 8vo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This is the latest addition to the Stories All Children +Love Series. The translation of the classic story has +been accomplished in a marvellously simple and direct +fashion,—it is a high example of the translator's art. +American children should be as familiar with it as they +are with "Swiss Family Robinson," and we feel certain +that on Christmas Day joy will be brought to the +nurseries in which this book is a present. The illustrations +by Maria L. Kirk are of the highest calibre,—the +color, freshness and fantastic airiness present just the +spark to kindle the imagination of the little tots.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;" class='center'><i><span style="font-size: large;">HEWLETT'S GREATEST WORK:</span><br /> +Romance, Satire and a German</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Little Iliad</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By MAURICE HEWLETT. Colored frontispiece by Edward +Burne-Jones. 12mo. $1.35 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>A "Hewlett" that you and every one else will enjoy! +It combines the rich romance of his earliest work with the +humor, freshness and gentle satire of his more recent.</p> + +<p>The whimsical, delightful novelist has dipped his pen +in the inkhorn of modern matrimonial difficulties and +brings it out dripping with amiable humor, delicious but +fantastic conjecture. Helen of Troy lives again in the +Twentieth Century, but now of Austria; beautiful, bewitching, +love-compelling, and with it all married to a +ferocious German who has drained the cup and is now +squeezing the dregs of all that life has to offer. He has +locomotor ataxia but that does not prevent his Neitschean +will from dominating all about him, nor does it prevent +Maurice Hewlett from making him one of the most interesting +and portentous characters portrayed by the hand +of an Englishman in many a day. Four brothers fall in +love with the fair lady,—there are amazing but happy +consequences. The author has treated an involved story +in a delightful, naive and refreshing manner.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Sea-Hawk</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By RAPHAEL SABATINI. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Sabatini has startled the reading public with this magnificent +romance! It is a thrilling treat to find a vivid, +clean-cut adventure yarn. Sincere in this, we beg you, +brothers, fathers, husbands and comfortable old bachelors, +to read this tale and even to hand it on to your friends of +the fairer sex, provided you are certain that they do not +mind the glint of steel and the shrieks of dying captives.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Man From the +Bitter Roots</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By CAROLINE LOCKHART. 3 illustrations in color by Gayle +Hoskins. 12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>"Better than 'Me-Smith'"—that is the word of those +who have read this story of the powerful, quiet, competent +Bruce Burt. You recall the humor of "Me-Smith,"—wait +until you read the wise sayings of Uncle Billy and +the weird characters of the Hinds Hotel. You recall some +of those flashing scenes of "Me-Smith"—wait until you +read of the blizzard in the Bitter Roots, of Bruce Burt +throwing the Mexican wrestling champion, of the reckless +feat of shooting the Roaring River with the dynamos upon +the rafts, of the day when Bruce Burt almost killed a man +who tried to burn out his power plant,—then you will +know what hair-raising adventures really are. The tale +is dramatic from the first great scene in that log cabin +in the mountains when Bruce Burt meets the murderous +onslaught of his insane partner.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">A Man's Hearth</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By ELEANOR M. INGRAM. Illustrated in color by Edmund +Frederick. 12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>The key words to all Miss Ingram's stories are "freshness," +"speed" and "vigor." "From the Car Behind" +was aptly termed "one continuous joy ride." "A Man's +Hearth" has all the vigor and go of the former story and +also a heart interest that gives a wider appeal. A young +New York millionaire, at odds with his family, finds his +solution in working for and loving the optimistic nursemaid +who brought him from the depths of trouble and +made for him a hearthstone. There are fascinating side +issues but this is the essential story and it is an inspiring +one. It will be one of the big books of the winter.</p> + + +<p class='center' style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>By the author of "MARCIA SCHUYLER" +"LO! MICHAEL" "THE BEST MAN" etc.</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Obsession of Victoria Gracen</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ. Illustrated in color. +12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Every mother, every church-worker, every individual +who desires to bring added happiness into the lives of +others should read this book. A new novel by the author +of "Marcia Schuyler" is always a treat for those of us +who want clean, cheerful, uplifting fiction of the sort that +you can read with pleasure, recommend with sincerity and +remember with thankfulness. This book has the exact +touch desired. The story is of the effect that an orphan +boy has upon his lonely aunt, his Aunt Vic. Her obsession +is her love for the lad and his happiness. There is the +never-failing fund of fun and optimism with the high +religious purpose that appears in all of Mrs. Lutz's excellent +stories.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Miranda</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ. Illustrated in color +by E. L. Henry. 12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Nearly all of us fell in love with Miranda when she first +appeared in "Marcia Schuyler," but those who missed +that happiness will now find her even more lovable in +this new book of which she is the central figure. From +cover to cover it is a tale of optimism, of courage, of +purpose. You lay it down with a revivified spirit, a +stronger heart for the struggle of this world, a clearer +hope for the next, and a determination to make yourself +and the people with whom you come in contact cleaner, +more spiritual, more reverent than ever before. It is +deeply religious in character: a novel that will bring the +great spiritual truths of God, character and attainment +straight to the heart of every reader.</p> + + +<p class='center' style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"GRIPPING" DETECTIVE TALES</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The White Alley</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By CAROLYN WELLS. Frontispiece. 12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>FLEMING STONE, the ingenious American detective, +has become one of the best known characters in modern +fiction. He is the supreme wizard of crime detection in +the WHITE BIRCHES MYSTERY told in,—"THE +WHITE ALLEY."</p> + +<p>The <i>Boston Transcript</i> says: "As an incomparable +solver of criminal enigmas, Stone is in a class by himself. +A tale which will grip the attention." This is what +another says:—"Miss Wells's suave and polished detective, +Fleming Stone, goes through the task set for him with +celerity and dispatch. Miss Wells's characteristic humor +and cleverness mark the conversations."—<i>New York Times.</i></p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Woman in the Car</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By RICHARD MARSH. 12mo. $1.35 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Do you like a thrilling tale? If so, read this one and +we almost guarantee that you will not stir from your chair +until you turn the last page. As the clock struck midnight +on one of the most fashionable streets of London in the +Duchess of Ditchling's handsome limousine, Arthur Towzer, +millionaire mining magnate, is found dead at the wheel, +horribly mangled. Yes, this is a tale during the reading +of which you will leave your chair only to turn up the +gas. When you are not shuddering, you are thinking; +your wits are balanced against the mind and system of +the famous Scotland Yard, the London detective headquarters. +The men or women who can solve the mystery +without reading the last few pages will deserve a reward,—they +should apply for a position upon the Pinkerton force.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;" class='center'><i>THE NOVEL THEY'RE ALL TALKING ABOUT</i></p> + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Rose-Garden Husband</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By MARGARET WIDDEMER. Illustrated by Walter Biggs. +Small 12mo. $1.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<b>A Benevolent Friend just saved me</b> from missing 'The +Rose-Garden Husband.' It is something for thanksgiving, +so I send thanks to you and the author. The +story is now cut out and stitched and in my collection +of 'worth-while' stories, in a portfolio that holds only +the choicest stories from many magazines. There is a +healthy tone in this that puts it above most of these +choice ones. And a smoothness of action, a reality of +motive and speech that comforts the soul of a veteran +reviewer." <i>From a Letter to the Publishers.</i></p></div> + +<p>Edition after edition of this novel has been sold, surely +you are not going to miss it. It is going the circle of family +after family,—every one likes it. The <i>New York Times</i>, +a paper that knows, calls it "a sparkling, rippling little +tale." Order it <i>now</i>,—the cost is but one dollar.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Diary of a Beauty</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. Illustrated by William Dorr +Steele. 12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>From the assistant postmistress in a small New England +village to the owner of a great mansion on Fifth Avenue +is the story told not as outsiders saw it, but as the beautiful +heroine experiences it,—an account so naive, so +deliciously cunning, so true, that the reader turns page +after page with an inner feeling of absolute satisfaction.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Dusty Road</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By THERESE TYLER. Frontispiece by H. Weston Taylor. +12mo. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This is a remarkable story of depth and power,—the +struggle of Elizabeth Anderson to clear herself of her +sordid surroundings. Such books are not written every +day, nor every year, nor every ten years. It is stimulating +to a higher, truer life.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large; margin-top: 2em;" class='center'>RECENT VALUABLE PUBLICATIONS</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Practical Book of Period +Furniture</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>Treating of English Period Furniture, and American Furniture +of Colonial and Post-Colonial date, together with that of the +typical French Periods.</b></p> + +<p><b>By HAROLD DONALDSON EBERLEIN and ABBOTT McCLURE. +With 225 illustrations in color, doubletone and line. +Octavo. Handsomely decorated cloth. In a box. $5.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This book places at the disposal of the general reader all +the information he may need in order to identify and classify +any piece of period furniture, whether it be an original, +or a reproduction. The authors have greatly increased +the value of the work by adding an illustrated chronological +key by means of which the reader can distinguish +the difference of detail between the various related +periods. One cannot fail to find the book absorbingly +interesting as well as most useful.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Practical Book of Oriental Rugs</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By DR. G. GRIFFIN LEWIS, Author of "The Mystery of the +Oriental Rug." New Edition, revised and enlarged. 20 full-page +illustrations in full color. 93 illustrations in doubletone. +70 designs in line. Folding chart of rug characteristics and a +map of the Orient. Octavo. Handsomely bound. In a box. +$5.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>Have you ever wished to be able to judge, understand, +and appreciate the characteristics of those gems of Eastern +looms? This is the book that you have been waiting for, +as all that one needs to know about oriental rugs is presented +to the reader in a most engaging manner with illustrations +that almost belie description. "From cover to +cover it is packed with detailed information compactly +and conveniently arranged for ready reference. Many +people who are interested in the beautiful fabrics of which +the author treats have long wished for such a book as +this and will be grateful to G. Griffin Lewis for writing it."—<i>The +Dial.</i></p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Practical Book of Outdoor +Rose Growing</p> + +<p class='center'> +NEW EDITION<br /> +REVISED AND ENLARGED<br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By GEORGE C. THOMAS, JR. Elaborately illustrated with +96 perfect photographic reproductions in full color of all varieties +of roses and a few half tone plates. Octavo. Handsome cloth +binding, in a slip case. $4.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This work has caused a sensation among rose growers, +amateurs and professionals. In the most practical and +easily understood way the reader is told just how to propagate +roses by the three principal methods of cutting, +budding and grafting. There are a number of pages in +which the complete list of the best roses for our climate +with their characteristics are presented. One prominent +rose grower said that these pages were worth their weight +in gold to him. The official bulletin of the Garden Club +of America said:—"It is a book one must have." It is +in fact in every sense practical, stimulating, and suggestive.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Practical Book of Garden +Architecture</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By PHEBE WESTCOTT HUMPHREYS. Frontispiece in color +and 125 illustrations from actual examples of garden architecture +and house surroundings. Octavo. In a box. $5.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>This beautiful volume has been prepared from the +standpoints of eminent practicability, the best taste, and +general usefulness for the owner developing his own property,—large +or small, for the owner employing a professional +garden architect, for the artist, amateur, student, +and garden lover. The author has the gift of inspiring +enthusiasm. Her plans are so practical, so artistic, so +beautiful, or so quaint and pleasing that one cannot resist +the appeal of the book, and one is inspired to make plans, +simple or elaborate, for stone and concrete work to embellish +the garden.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;" class='center'>Handsome Art Works of Joseph Pennell</p> + +<p>The reputation of the eminent artist is ever upon the +increase. His books are sought by all who wish their +libraries to contain the best in modern art. Here is your +opportunity to determine upon the purchase of three of +his most sought-after volumes.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph Pennell's Pictures of the Panama Canal</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>(Fifth printing) 28 reproductions of lithographs made on the +Isthmus of Panama between January and March, 1912, with +Mr. Pennell's Introduction giving his experiences and impressions, +and a full description of each picture. Volume 7½ × 10 +inches. Beautifully printed on dull finished paper. Lithograph +by Mr. Pennell on cover. $1.25 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>"Mr. Pennell continues in this publication the fine work +which has won for him so much deserved popularity. He +does not merely portray the technical side of the work, but +rather prefers the human element."—<i>American Art News.</i></p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Our Philadelphia</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL. Illustrated by Joseph +Pennell. Regular Edition. Containing 105 reproductions of +lithographs by Joseph Pennell. Quarto. 7½ × 10 inches. 552 +pages. Handsomely bound in red buckram. Boxed. $7.50 net.</b></p> + +<p><b>Autograph Edition. Limited to 289 copies (Now very scarce). +Contains 10 drawings, reproduced by a new lithograph process, in +addition to the illustrations that appear in the regular edition. Quarto. +552 pages. Specially bound in genuine English linen buckram in +City colors, in cloth covered box. $18.00 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>An intimate personal record in text and in picture of +the lives of the famous author and artist in a city with a +brilliant history, great beauty, immense wealth.</p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">Life of James McNeill Whistler</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>By ELIZABETH ROBINS and JOSEPH PENNELL. Thoroughly +revised Fifth Edition of the authorized Life, with much +new matter added which was not available at the time of issue +of the elaborate 2 volume edition, now out of print. Fully +illustrated with 97 plates reproduced from Whistler's works. +Crown octavo. 450 pages. Whistler binding, deckle edges. +$3.50 net. Three-quarter grain levant, $7.50 net.</b></p></div> + +<p>"In its present form and with the new illustrations, +some of which present to us works which are unfamiliar +to us, its popularity will be greatly increased."—<i>International +Studio.</i></p> + + +<p style="font-size: x-large;">The Stories All Children Love Series</p> + +<p>This set of books for children comprises some of the most +famous stories ever written. Each book has been a tried and +true friend in thousands of homes where there are boys and +girls. Fathers and mothers remembering their own delight +in the stories are finding that this handsome edition of old +favorites brings even more delight to their children. The +books have been carefully chosen, are beautifully illustrated, +have attractive lining papers, dainty head and tail +pieces, and the decorative bindings make them worthy of +a permanent place on the library shelves.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">Heidi</td><td align="left">By JOHANNA SPYRI.<br />Translated by Elisabeth P. Stork.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Cuckoo Clock</td><td align="left">By MRS. MOLESWORTH.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Swiss Family Robinson</td><td align="left">Edited by G. E. MITTON.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Princess and the Goblin</td><td align="left">By GEORGE MACDONALD.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Princess and Curdie</td><td align="left">By GEORGE MACDONALD.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">At the Back of the North Wind</td><td align="left">By GEORGE MACDONALD.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Dog of Flanders</td><td align="left">By "OUIDA."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bimbi</td><td align="left">By "OUIDA."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mopsa, the Fairy</td><td align="left">By JEAN INGELOW.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Chronicles of Fairyland</td><td align="left">By FERGUS HUME.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><b>Each large octavo, with from 8 to 12 colored illustrations. +Handsome cloth binding, decorated in gold and color. +$1.25 net, per volume.</b></p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man's Hearth, by Eleanor M. 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