("White face and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle.")
Martin said something, inarticulately, and moved a chair forward. The girl spoke again, cheerily, in the spirit of good-fellowship, astonished a little, but too comfortable to move.
But a cold hand was laid on Joan"s heart, and all that rang in her brain were the words that Alice had used,--"white face and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle.... Don"t YOU be the one to turn his armor into common broadcloth."
And for a moment she stood, looking from Marty to the girl and back to Marty, like one struck dumb, like one who draws up at the very lip of a chasm.... And in that cruel and terrible minute her heart seemed to break and die. Marty, Marty in broadcloth, and she had put it in his hands. She had turned him away from her room and lost him. There"s not one thing that any of us can do or say that doesn"t react on some one else to hurt or bless.
With a little gasp, the sense of all this going home to her, Tootles scrambled awkwardly off the settee, dropping a book and a handkerchief.
This, then, this beautiful girl who belonged to a quarter of life of which she had sometimes met the men but never the women, was Martin"s wife--the wife of the man whom she loved to adoration.
"Why, then, you"re--you"re Mrs. Gray," she stammered, her impertinence gone, her hail-fellow-well-met manner blown like a bubble.
Catching sight of the message, "We count it death to falter not to die," Joan summoned her pride, put up her chin and gave a curious little bow. "Forgive me," she said, "I"m trespa.s.sing," and not daring to look at Marty, turned and went out. She heard him call her name, saw his st.u.r.dy shadow fall across the yellow patch, choked back a sob, started running, and stumbled away and away, with the blood from her heart bespattering the gra.s.ses and the wild flowers, and the fairies whimpering at her heels,--and, at last, climbing back into the room that knew and loved and understood, threw herself down on its bosom in a great agony of grief.
"Be kind to me, old room, be kind to me. It"s Joan-all-alone,--all alone."
PART THREE
THE GREAT EMOTION
I
Mrs. Alan Hosack, bearing a more than ever remarkable resemblance to those ship"s figureheads that are still to be seen in the corners of old lumber yards, led the way out to the sun porch. Her lavish charms, her beaming manner, her clear blue eye, milky complexion, reddish hair, and the large bobbles and beads with which she insisted upon decorating herself made Howard Cannon"s nickname of Cornucopia exquisitely right.
She was followed by Mrs. Cooper Jekyll and a man servant, whose arms were full of dogs and books and newspapers.
"The dogs on the ground, Barrett," she said, "the books and papers on the table there, my chair on the right-hand side of it and bring that chair forward for Mrs. Jekyll. We will have the lemonade at once. Tell Lestocq that I shall not want the car before lunch, ask Miss Disberry to telephone to Mrs. John Ward Harrison and say that I will have tea with her this afternoon with pleasure, and when those two good little Sisters of Mercy finally arrive,--I could see them, all sandy, struggling along the road from my room, Augusta; dear me, what a life,--they are to be given luncheon as usual and the envelope that is on the hall table. That will do, I think."
The man servant was entirely convinced that it would.
"And now, make yourself comfortable, dear Augusta, and tell me everything. So very kind of you to drive over like this on such a sunny morning. Yes, that"s right. Take off that lugubrious Harem veil,--the mark of a Southampton woman,--and let me see your beautiful face.
Before I try to give you a chance to speak I must tell you, and I"m sure you won"t mind with your keen sense of humor, how that nice boy, Harry Oldershaw, describes those things. No, after all, perhaps I don"t think I"d better. For one reason, it was a little bit undergraduate, and for another, I forget." She chuckled and sat down, wabbling for a moment like an opulent blancmange.
Minus the strange dark blue thing which had hidden her ears and nose and mouth and which suggested nothing but leprosy, Mrs. Jekyll became human, recognizable and extremely good to look at. She wore her tight-fitting suit of white flannel like a girl and even in that clear detective light she did not look a day over thirty. She painted with all the delicacy of an artist. She was there, as a close friend of Alice Palgrave, to discover why Gilbert had not gone with her to the Maine coast.
"I haven"t heard from you since we left town," she said, beating about the bush, "and being in the neighborhood I thought it would be delightful to catch a glimpse of you and hear your news. I have none, except that I have just lost the butler who has been with me for so long, and Edmond is having his portrait painted again for some club or inst.i.tution. It"s the ninth time, I believe. He likes it. It"s a sort of rest cure."
"And how did you lose that very admirable butler? Illness or indiscretion?"
"Neither. Commerce, I suppose one might call it. It appears that one of these get-rich-quick munition men offered him double his wages to leave me, and Derbyshire couldn"t resist it. He came to me with tears in his eyes and told me that he had to make the sacrifice owing to the increased cost of living. He has a family, you know. He said that the comic atmosphere of his new place might bring on neuritis, but he must educate his three boys. Really, there is a great deal of unsung heroism in the world, isn"t there? In the meantime, I am trying to get accustomed to a Swiss, who"s probably a German spy and who will set up a wireless installation on the roof." Then she dropped her baited hook.
"You have a large house party, I suppose."
"Yes," said Mrs. Hosack, swinging her foot to keep the flies away. The wind was off the land.
"Primrose is so depressed if the house isn"t full. And so the d"Oylys are here,--Nina more Junoesque than ever and really quite like an Amazon in bathing clothes; Enid Ouchterlony, a little bitter, I"m afraid, at not being engaged to any one yet,--men are horribly scared of an intelligent girl and, after all, they don"t marry for intelligence, do they?--Harry Oldershaw, Frank Milwood and Courtney Millet, all nice boys, and I almost forgot to add, Joan Gray, that charming girl. My good man is following at her heels like a bob-tailed sheep dog. Poor old dear! He"s arrived at that pathetic period of a man"s life when almost any really blond girl still in her teens switches him into a second state of adolescence and makes him a most ridiculous object--what the novelists call the "Forty-nine feeling," I believe."
Bennett brought the lemonade and hurried away before his memory could be put to a further strain. "Tell me about Joan Gray," said Mrs.
Jekyll, letting out her line. "There"s probably no truth in it, but I hear that she and Martin have agreed to differ. How quickly these romantic love matches burn themselves out. I always say that a marriage made in Heaven breaks up far sooner than one made on earth. It has so much farther to fall. Whose fault is it, hers or his?"
Mrs. Hosack bent forward and endeavored to lower her voice. She was a kind-hearted woman who delighted to see every one happy and normal.
"I"m very worried about those two, my dear," she answered. "There are all sorts of stories afloat,--one to the effect that Martin has gone off with a chorus girl, another that Joan only married him to get away from her grandparents and a third that they quarreled violently on the way home from church and have not been on speaking terms since. I daresay there are many others, but whatever did happen, and something evidently did, Joan is happy enough, and every man in the house is sentimental about her. Look out there, for instance."
Mrs. Jekyll followed her glance and saw a girl in bathing clothes sitting on the beach under a red and blue striped umbrella encircled by the outstretched forms of half a dozen men. Beyond, on the fringe of a sea alive with bursting breakers, several girls were bathing alone.
"H"m," said Mrs. Jekyll. "I should think that the second story is the true one. A tip-tilted nose, chestnut hair and brown eyes are better to flirt with than marry. Well, I must run away if I"m to be back to lunch. I wish I could stay, but Edmond and his artist may kill my new butler unless I intervene. They are both hotly pro-Ally. By the way, I hear that Alice Palgrave has gone to the Maine coast with her mother, who is ill again; I wonder where Gilbert is going?"
"Well, I had a very charming letter from him two days ago, asking me if he could come and stay with us. He loves this house and the beach, and I always cheer him up, he said, and he is very lonely without Alice. Of course I said yes, and he will be here this afternoon."
Whereupon, having landed her fish, Mrs. Jekyll rose to go. Gilbert Palgrave and Joan Gray,--there was truth in that story, as she had thought. She had heard of his having been seen everywhere with Joan night after night, and her sister-in-law, who lived opposite to the little house in East Sixty-seventh Street, had seen him leaving in the early hours of the morning more than once. A lucky strike, indeed.
Intuition was a wonderful gift. She was highly pleased with herself.
"Good-by, my dear," she said. "I will drive over again one day this week and see how you are all getting on in this beautiful corner of the world. My love to Prim, please, and do remember me to the little siren."
And away she went, leaving Mrs. Hosack to wonder what was the meaning of her rather curious smile. Only a hidebound prejudice on the part of the Ministries of all the nations has precluded women from the Diplomatic Service.
II
"Ah, here you are," said Hosack, scrambling a little stiffly out of a hammock. "Well, have you had a good ride?"
Joan came up the steps with Harry Oldershaw, the nice boy. She was in white linen riding kit, with breeches and brown top boots. A man"s straw hat sat squarely on her little head and there was a brown and white spotted tie under her white silk collar. Color danced on her cheeks, health sparkled in her eyes and there was a laugh of sheer high spirits floating behind her like the blown petals of a daisy.
"Perfectly wonderful," she said. "I love the country about here, with the little oaks and st.u.r.dy ferns. It"s so springy. And aren"t the chestnut trees in the village a sight for the blind? I don"t wonder you built a house in Easthampton, Mr. Hosack. Are we too late for tea?"
Hosack ran his eyes over her and blinked a little as though he had looked at the sun. "Too late by an hour," he said, with a sulky glance at young Oldershaw. "I thought you were never coming back." His resentment of middle age and jealousy of the towering youth of the sun-tanned lad who had been Joan"s companion were a little pitiful.
Harry caught his look and laughed with the sublime audacity of one who believes that he ranks among the Immortals. To him forty-nine seemed to be a colossal sum of years, almost beyond belief. It was pathetic of this old fellow to imagine that he had any right to the company of a girl so springlike as Joan. "If we hadn"t worn the horses to a frazzle," he said, "we shouldn"t have been back till dark. Have a drink, Joan?"
"Yes, water. Buckets of it. Hurry up, Harry."
The boy, triumphant at being in favor, swung away, and Joan flung her crop on to a cane sofa. "Where"s everybody?" she asked.
"What"s it matter," said Hosack. "Sit here and talk to me for a change.
I"ve hardly had a word with you all day." He caught her hand and drew her into the swinging hammock. "What a pretty thing you are," he added, with a catch in his breath. "I know," said Joan. "Otherwise, probably, I shouldn"t be here, should I?" She forgot all about him, and an irresistible desire to tease, at the sight of the sea which, a stone"s throw from the house, pounded on the yellow sweep of sand and swooped up in large half circles of glistening water. "I"ve a jolly good mind to have another dip before changing. What do you say?"
"No, don"t," said Hosack, a martyr to the Forty-nine-feeling.
"Concentrate on me for ten minutes, if only because, d.a.m.n it, I"m your host."
Joan pushed his hand away. "I"ve given up concentrating," she said. "I gave it a turn a little while ago, but it led nowhere, so why worry?
I"m on the good old Merry-go-round again, and if it doesn"t whack up to the limit of its speed I"ll know the reason why. There"s a dance at the Club to-night, isn"t there?"
"Yes, but we don"t go."