She moved slowly toward the house. Marbridge kept his seat.
"Nonsense!" he expostulated. "Plenty of time. Tea"s just coming. And I"m dying the death of a dog with thirst."
"I am going," Venetia repeated in an uninflected voice.
His dark face darkening, Marbridge glanced to Helena, to Tankerville, ignored Matthias, looked back to Joan: gaining as little encouragement from her, as from his host and hostess, since she dared not again meet his gaze. With a movement of his heavy shoulders and a chuckle he heaved himself out of the chair.
"Oh, _all_ right," he called indulgently to his wife: "coming!... All women are crazy, anyhow," he confided to the others. "You"ve got to let "em have their own way. So--good night. Hope I"ll have the pleasure of seeing you-all soon again."
He extended a hand to Helena--who gave him cool fingertips--and paused before Joan.
"Au revoir, Miss Thursday...."
The girl was unconscious of the proffered hand. Her eyes averted, she murmured a good night.
His smile broadening, Marbridge turned to Matthias; received from him a look that was as good as a kick, gave back a grin of graceless effrontery; and swinging, linked arms with Tankerville.
"Come along, George--take a look at our new car. She"s a wonder!"
Civilly playing his part, Tankerville submitted.
They disappeared--Marbridge gabbling cheerfully--into the house. Joan uncurtained her eyes. Her lover, with a face of thunder, was looking toward his aunt; who made a slight negative motion of her head, with an admonitory flutter of one hand: a servant with a tray was drawing near.
Matthias answered her with a gesture of controlled wrath; turned to the bal.u.s.trade; stood there staring straight into the angry sunset glow.
On the drive a motor snorted, snored, drew away with a whine diminuendo....
Throughout the remainder of Joan"s visit the incident was not once referred to. But it had had its curious and disturbing effect upon the girl. She remembered it all very vividly, reviewed it with insatiable inquisitiveness. From this she derived a feeling, which she resented, of having witnessed a scene fraught with significance indecipherable to her.
XXI
A little after the hour of four on Monday afternoon, Joan emerged from that riotous meander of hideous wooden galleries, ramps, pa.s.sages, sheds, and vast echoing caves of gloom, which in those days enc.u.mbered the site of the new Grand Central Station; and with a long breath of relief turned westward on Forty-second Street.
She walked slowly and without definite aim; yet she had never felt so keenly the quickness and joy of being alive. Her idle fancy invested with a true if formless symbolism her escape from that amazing labyrinth of shadows to the clear, sweet sunlight of the clamorous, busy street: as if she had eluded and cast off convention and formality, the constraint of a settled future and the strain of aspirations to be other than as Nature had fashioned her; and was free again of the enchanting ease of being simply herself.
She had within five minutes said good-bye to her betrothed; her lips were yet warm with their parting kiss, her eyes still moist--and so, the more bewitching--with the facile tears through which she had watched his train draw out of the station.
He was not to be back within a month; more probably his return would not occur within five or six weeks....
She was contrarily possessed by two opposed humours: one approximately saturated with an exquisite melancholy and a sense of heroic emotions adequately experienced; and the other, of freedom untrammelled by restrictions of any sort.
Overruling her faint-hearted protests, Matthias had left her the sum of six weeks" wages (or allowance) in advance, by way of provision against emergencies and delays. Joan had this magnificent sum of one hundred and fifty dollars intact in her pocket-book: more money than she had ever--at least, seriously--dreamed of possessing at one time.
Temporarily it represented to her imagination, level-headed as she ordinarily was in consideration of money matters, wealth almost incalculable. It thrilled her tremendously to contemplate this tangible proof of her lover"s unquestioning trust and generosity--and at the same time it irked her with gnawing doubts of her worthiness. For continually the knowledge skulked in the dark backwards of her consciousness that only lack of opportunity restrained her from active disloyalty to his prejudices.
Though she had disguised it from him, and even in some measure from herself, she knew that love had not quenched but had quickened her ambition for the stage. To be desired by one man only stimulated her longing to be desired inaccessibly--beyond the impregnable barrier of footlights--by all men.
She wondered how far her strength and constancy would serve her to resist, were opportunity to come her way during the absence of Matthias, when distance should have sapped the strength of his influence and loneliness had lent an accent to her need for occupation and companionship.
Furtively she closed her left hand, until she could feel the diamond in his ring, turned in toward the palm beneath her glove: as if it were a talisman....
Turning north on Broadway, she breasted the full current of the late afternoon promenade. Where the subway kiosks encroach upon the sidewalk, in front of what had been Shanley"s restaurant, there was a distinct congestion of footfarers: Joan was obliged to move more slowly, crowded from behind, close on the heels of those in front, elbowed by pedestrians bound the opposite way.
Abruptly she caught sight of Wilbrow, approaching. Almost at the same instant he saw her. Momentarily his eyes clouded with an effort of memory; then he placed her, his lantern cheeks widened with an ironic grin, and he lifted his hat with elaborate ceremony. Joan flushed slightly, smiled brightly in response, and tossed her head with a spirited suggestion of good-humoured tolerance. In another moment, wondering why she had done this, she realized that it had been due simply to a subconscious valuation of the man"s interest, in the event she should ever again decide to try her luck on the stage....
Crossing at Forty-third Street, she turned again north on the sidewalk in front of a building given over almost entirely to the offices of theatrical businesses: a sidewalk darkened the year round with groups of actors sociably "resting."
One of these groups, as Joan drew near, broke up on the urgent suggestion of a special policeman detailed for the purpose; and a member of it, swinging with a laugh to "move on," stopped short to escape collision with the girl. Then he laughed again in the friendliest fashion, and offered his hand. She looked up into the face of Charlie Quard.
"Well!" he cried heartily, "I always was a lucky guy! I"ve been thinking about you all day--wondering what"d become of you."
Joan smiled and shook hands. "I guess it wasn"t worrying you much," she retorted. "If you"d wanted to, you knew where to find me."
Quard needed no more encouragement. Promptly ranging alongside and falling into step: "That"s just it," he argued; "I knew where to _start_ looking for you, all right, but I was kinda afraid you might be in when I called, and didn"t know whether you"d snap my head off or not."
"That"s likely," the girl countered amiably. There was a distinctly agreeable sensation to be derived from this a.s.sociation with one upon whom she could impose her private estimate of herself. "What made you want to see me all of a sudden?"
"Then you ain"t sore on me?"
"What for?" she evaded transparently.
"Oh, you know what for, all right. I"m sore enough on myself not to want to talk about it."
"Well," said Joan indifferently, "I guess it"s none of my business if you"re such a rummy you can"t hold onto a job. Only, of course, I don"t have to stand for that sort of foolishness more than once."
"You said something then, all right," Quard approved humbly. "I can"t blame you for feeling that way about it. But le" me tell you an honest fact: I ain"t touched a drop of anything stronger"n b.u.t.termilk since that night--so help me Klaw and Erlanger!"
"Why?"
"Well, I guess I must"ve took a tumble to myself. Anyhow, when I got over the katzenjammer thing, I thought it all out and made up my mind it was up to me to behave for the balance of my sentence."
"Is that so?" Joan asked, pausing definitely on the corner at Forty-fifth Street.
"I know I can," Quard a.s.serted convincingly. "Believe me, Joan, I hate the stuff! I"d as lief stake myself to a slug of sulphuric. No, on the level: I"m booked for the water-tank route for the rest of my natural."
"I"m awful glad," observed the girl maliciously. "It"s so nice for your mother. Well ... g"dafternoon!"
"Hold on!" Quard protested. "I"ll walk down to the house with you."
"No, you won"t," she returned promptly.
"Why not?"
"I don"t want you to."
"Oh, you don"t!" he murmured blankly, pulling down the corners of his wide, expressive mouth.