He argued the thing over. In the unlikely contingency of the girl"s being willing, was Stewart right--could two people live as cheaply as one? Marie was an Austrian and knew how to manage--that was different.
And another thing troubled him. He dreaded to disturb the delicate adjustment of their relationship; the terra incognita of a young girl"s mind daunted him. There was another consideration which he put resolutely in the back of his mind--his career. He had seen many a promising one killed by early marriage, men driven to the hack work of the profession by the scourge of financial necessity. But that was a matter of the future; the necessity was immediate.
The night was very cold. Gusts of wind from the snow-covered Schneeberg drove along the streets, making each corner a fortress defended by the elements, a battlement to be seized, lost, seized again. Peter Byrne battled valiantly but mechanically. And as he fought he made his decision.
He acted with characteristic promptness. Possibly, too, he was afraid of the strength of his own resolution. By morning sanity might prevail, and in cold daylight he would see the absurdity of his position. He almost ran up the winding staircase. At the top his cold fingers fumbled the key and he swore under his breath. He slammed the door behind him. Peter always slammed doors, and had an apologetic way of opening the door again and closing it gently, as if to show that he could. Harmony"s room was dark, but he had surprised her once into a confession that when she was very downhearted she liked to sit in the dark and be very blue indeed. So he stopped and knocked. There was no reply, but from Dr.
Gates"s room across there came a hum of conversation. He knew at once that Harmony was there.
Peter hardly hesitated. He took off his soft hat and ran a hand over his hair, and he straightened his tie. These preliminaries to a proposal of marriage being disposed of, he rapped at the door.
Anna Gates opened it. She wore a hideous red-flannel wrapper, and in deference to Harmony a thimble. Her flat breast was stuck with pins, and pinkish threads revealed the fact that the bathrobe was still under way.
"Peter!" she cried. "Come in and get warm."
Harmony, in the blue kimono, gave a little gasp, and flung round her shoulders the ma.s.s of pink on which she had been working.
"Please go out!" she said. "I am not dressed."
"You are covered," returned Anna Gates. "That"s all that any sort of clothing can do. Don"t mind her, Peter, and sit on the bed. Look out for pins!"
Peter, however, did not sit down. He stood just inside the closed door and stared at Harmony--Harmony in the red light from the little open door of the stove; Harmony in blue and pink and a bit of white petticoat; Harmony with her hair over her shoulders and tied out of her eyes with an encircling band of rosy flannel.
"Do sit!" cried Anna Gates. "You fill the room so. Bless you, Peter, what a collar!"
No man likes to know his collar is soiled, especially on the eve of proposing marriage to a pink and blue and white vision. Peter, seated now on the bed, writhed.
"I rapped at Miss Wells"s door," he said. "You were not there."
This last, of course, to Harmony.
Anna Gates sniffed.
"Naturally!"
"I had something to say to you. I--I dare say it is hardly pension etiquette for you to go over to your room and let me say it there?"
Harmony smiled above the flannel.
"Could you call it through the door?"
"Hardly."
"Fiddlesticks!" said Dr. Gates, rising. "I"ll go over, of course, but not for long. There"s no fire."
With her hand on the k.n.o.b, however, Harmony interfered.
"Please!" she implored. "I am not dressed and I"d rather not." She turned to Peter. "You can say it before her, can"t you? She--I have told her all about things."
Peter hesitated. He felt ridiculous for the second time that night.
Then:--
"It was merely an idea I had. I saw a little apartment furnished--you could learn to use the stove, unless, of course, you don"t like housekeeping--and food is really awfully cheap. Why, at these delicatessen places and bakeshops--"
Here he paused for breath and found Dr. Gates"s quizzical glance fixed on him, and Harmony"s startled eyes.
"What I am trying to say," he exploded, "is that I believe if you would marry me it would solve some of your troubles anyhow." He was talking for time now, against Harmony"s incredulous face. "You"d be taking on others, of course. I"m not much and I"m as poor--well, you know. It--it was the apartment that gave me the idea--"
"And the stove!" said Harmony; and suddenly burst into joyous laughter.
After a rather shocked instant Dr. Gates joined her. It was real mirth with Harmony, the first laugh of days, that curious laughter of women that is not far from tears.
Peter sat on the bed uncomfortably. He grinned sheepishly and made a last feeble attempt to stick to his guns.
"I mean it. You know I"m not in love with you or you with me, of course.
But we are such a pair of waifs, and I thought we might get along. Lord knows I need some one to look after me!"
"And Emma?"
"There is no Emma. I made her up."
Harmony sobered at that.
"It is only"--she gasped a little for breath--"it is only your--your transparency, Peter." It was the first time she had called him Peter.
"You know how things are with me and you want to help me, and out of your generosity you are willing to take on another burden. Oh, Peter!"
And here, Harmony being an emotional young person, the tears beat the laughter to the surface and had to be wiped away under the cover of mirth.
Anna Gates, having recovered herself, sat back and surveyed them both sternly through her gla.s.ses.
"Once for all," she said brusquely, "let such foolishness end. Peter, I am ashamed of you. Marriage is not for you--not yet, not for a dozen years. Any man can saddle himself with a wife; not every man can be what you may be if you keep your senses and stay single. And the same is true for you, girl. To tide over a bad six months you would sacrifice the very thing you are both struggling for?"
"I"m sure we don"t intend to do it," replied Harmony meekly.
"Not now. Some day you may be tempted. When that time comes, remember what I say. Matrimonially speaking, each of you is fatal to the other.
Now go away and let me alone. I"m not accustomed to proposals of marriage."
It was in some confusion of mind that Peter Byrne took himself off to the bedroom with the cold tiled stove and the bed that was as comfortable as a washtub. Undeniably he was relieved. Also Harmony"s problem was yet unsolved. Also she had called him Peter.
Also he had said he was not in love with her. Was he so sure of that?
At midnight, just as Peter, rolled in the bedclothing, had managed to warm the cold concavity of his bed and had dozed off, Anna Gates knocked at his door.
"Yes?" said Peter, still comfortably asleep.
"It is Dr. Gates."
"Sorry, Doctor--have to "xcuse me," mumbled Peter from the blanket.
"Peter!"
Peter roused to a chilled and indignant consciousness and sat up in bed.