The next day was Sunday, and Blakie had promised to take the two girls
into the country for a picnic; but at breakfast he suggested another
plan.
“Suppose we go and see mother,” he said.
Renie’s sensitive face grew scarlet, but Martha frowned a queer little
anxious frown. She couldn’t understand this.
“We’ll go early,” he went on, “so that she won’t be out.”
He sent them into the kitchen to talk to the cook, while he went into
Martha’s room to repack their bag. They would not come back to these gay
little pink and blue rooms!
Then he took the bag downstairs, put it under the seat in the car, and
went up to fetch the children. He would not tell them they were not
coming back. If he could help it, there should not be another cruel
parting for them.
He drove the car himself, leaving them together in the back seat; and
all the way he tried to find some consolation for his great bitterness.
In all the world there was nothing but Frances Deering.
“I’ll marry her,” he thought. “I’ll have a home of my own. She’s a dear
little kid!”
He must have some one, and he saw clearly that he could build up a good
life with Frances. He was fond of her; perhaps he could love her, in a
way. He could have a good life, honorable and dignified and comfortable.
* * * * *
Katherine’s flat was in a very second-rate neighborhood. That was just
like her!
“What do I care at all for the neighborhood,” he could imagine her
saying, “if it’s a nice flat with plenty of air and room?”
He stopped the car before the door.
“You wait here for awhile,” he told the children.
Going into the ornate entrance hall, he asked the colored boy to
telephone upstairs to Mrs. Blakie that a gentleman had come to see her
on business.
“You’re to go up,” said the boy.
She opened the door for him herself. At the sight of him her face grew
white as death.
“Oh, God!” she cried. “Something’s happened to them! Oh, God! I knew, if
I let them go--”
“Don’t be silly!” he interrupted sharply. “They are both perfectly all
right. I simply want to speak to you for a moment, if--”
He stopped short, shocked and dismayed that he had spoken in the old
tone of irritation.
“Come in, Lew,” she said anxiously.
He followed her into the sitting room. It was untidy, with music
scattered all about, and through the open doorway he could see the
breakfast dishes still on the table.
“Madge has gone to mass,” she explained.
There was a strange sort of humility about her that he had never seen
before. She was wearing a silk kimono, with her hair in a loose plait.
Her face was pale and jaded and stained with tears.
“I’m sorry the place is so upset,” she said.
He knew what made her so apologetic. He had the upper hand now--he had
her children.
“Sit down, Katherine,” he said, stung to a great pity. “I shan’t waste
time beating about the bush. I’ve been thinking--most of the night.”
“So have I,” she replied. “_All_ night!”
“It’s not right, Katherine. It’s not fair to them.”
“I know,” she said.
He was silent for a moment, looking about him. It was easy to see why
her children loved her so, why she had so many friends. In all her
carelessness there was something lavish and generous. She was never
petty. She was like a child herself, reckless and impulsive--and lovely.
Hadn’t Blakie loved her himself, and known how beautifully kind she
could be? Never could his children suffer any great harm from her.
“I’ve brought them back,” he said.
“Lew!”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s too damned hard on them--this way. I’ve brought
them back to you--to keep.”
“Lew!” she cried. “Oh, my poor Lew!”
Tears were running down her cheeks. He patted her shoulder.
“Buck up!” he said. “You’ve got to think of something to tell them, so
that they won’t--be upset--about me.”
He turned away, but she followed him.
“Lew! They _will_ be upset! They’ve missed you. They need you.”
He knew that.
“All the night long I’ve been thinking,” she went on. “Can’t we start
again--for their sakes?”
They faced each other now, and all that they had lost. If they were to
start again! There would be no gracious and dignified life for him, no
careless freedom for her. They would exasperate and hurt each other,
again and again.
He walked over to the window and looked down to Renie and Martha,
sitting side by side in the car.
“We can try,” he said.
MUNSEY’S
MAGAZINE
MARCH, 1928
Vol. XCIII NUMBER 2