Still beset by uncertainties as to whether he would increase his
chances of happiness by marrying again, Mills was wondering just
how a man of his years could initiate a courtship with a girl of
Millicent Harden’s age. It must be managed in such a way as to preserve
his dignity--that must be preserved at all hazards. They had been
walking through the conservatory aisles inspecting his roses, which
were cultivated by an expert whose salary was a large item of the
farm budget. Millicent was asking questions about the development of
new floral types and he was answering painstakingly, pleased by her
interest.
“It’s unfortunate that the human species can’t be improved as easily.
At least we don’t see our way to improving it,” he remarked.
He had never thought her so beautiful as now; her charm was rather
enhanced by her informal dress. It would be quite possible for him to
love her, love her even with a young man’s ardor.
“Oh, patience, sir!” she smiled. “Evolution is still going on.”
“Or going back! There’s our old quarrel!” he laughed. “We always seem
to get into it. But your idea that we’re not creatures of chance--that
there’s some unseen power back of everything we call life--that’s too
much for me. I can understand Darwin--but you!”
“Honestly, now, are you perfectly satisfied to go on thinking we’re all
creatures of chance?”
“Sometimes I am and then again I’m not!” he replied with a shrug. “I
can’t quite understand why it is that with everything we have, money
and the ability to amuse ourselves, we do at times inquire about that
Something that never shows itself or gives us a word.”
“Oh, but He does!” She held up the three perfect roses Mills had
plucked for her. “He shows Himself in all beautiful things. They’re all
trying to tell us that the Something we can’t see or touch has a great
deal to do with our lives.”
“Millie,” he said in a tone of mock despair, tapping her hand lightly,
“you’re an incorrigible mystic!”
They were interrupted by a knock on the glass door, which swung open,
disclosing Leila and Bruce.
“Mr. Storrs and I are dying of curiosity! You’ve been talking here for
ages!” cried Leila.
“Millie’s been amusing herself at my expense,” said Mills. “Mr. Storrs,
I wish you’d tell me sometime what Miss Harden means when she reaches
into the infinite and brings down----”
“Roses!” laughed Millicent.
V
His glimpse of Franklin Mills and Millicent at the conservatory door
affected Bruce disagreeably. The fact that the two had been discussing
impersonal matters did not lessen his resentment. Millicent with
Mills’s roses in her hand; Mills courteously attentive, addressing the
girl with what to Bruce was a lover-like air, had made a picture that
greatly disturbed him.
Very likely, with much this same air, with the same winning manner
and voice, Mills had wooed his mother! He saw in Mills a sinister
figure--a man who, having taken advantage of one woman, was not to be
trusted with another. The pity he had at times felt for Mills went down
before a wave of jealous anger and righteous indignation. The man was
incapable of any true appreciation of Millicent; he was without wit or
soul to penetrate to the pure depths of the girl’s nature.
“You two are always talking about things I don’t understand!” Leila
said to them; and led Bruce on through the conservatories, talking in
her inconsequential fashion.
When they returned to the house someone had begun playing old-fashioned
games--blindman’s buff, drop the handkerchief and London Bridge. When
these ceased to amuse, the rugs were cleared away and they danced to
the phonograph. Mills encouraged and participated in all this as if
anxious to show that he could be as young as the youngest. And what
occasion could be more fitting than an evening in his handsome country
house, with his children and their friends about him!
With Millicent constantly before his eyes, entering zestfully into all
these pleasures, Bruce recovered his tranquillity. For the thousandth
time he convinced himself that he was not a weakling to suffer specters
of the past and forebodings of the future to mar his life. He danced
with Millicent; seized odd moments in which to talk to her; tried to
believe that she had a particular smile for him....
“I wonder if you’d drive me in?” asked Mrs. Torrence when the party
began to break up.
“I’d been counting on it!” said Bruce promptly.
Constance came along and waived her rights to his escort, as she and
Shepherd were taking the Freemans home.
“I believe we’re a little better acquainted than we were,” she said
meaningfully.
“It seemed to me we made a little headway,” Bruce replied.
“Come and see me soon! You never can tell when I’ll need a little
consoling.”
“That was a good party,” Mrs. Torrence began as Bruce got his car in
motion. “Mr. Mills is two or three different men. Sometimes I think he
consciously assumes a variety of rôles. He’s keen about this country
gentleman stuff--unassuming grandeur and all that! But meet him out
at dinner in town tomorrow night and you’d never think him capable of
playing drop the handkerchief! Makes you wonder just which is the real
Mills.”
“Maybe we all lead two or three existences without knowing it,” Bruce
remarked.
“We do! We do, indeed!” the little woman cheerfully agreed. “All
except me. I’m always just the same and too much of that!”
“Well, you always come up with a laugh and that helps. Please let me
into the secret.”
“My dear boy, I learned early in life to hide my tears. Nobody’s
interested in a cry-baby. And minding my own business saves a lot of
bother. I think I’ve acquired that noble trait!”
“That’s genius!” exclaimed Bruce.
“But--in your case I may not do it! I like you, you know.”
“Am I to believe that?” he asked seriously.
“I hope you’ll believe it. I offered at the beginning of the evening to
be your friend until death do us part; I’ve done some thinking since. I
do think occasionally, though you’d never guess it.”
“It’s an old trick of the world to be mistrustful of thinkers. I’ve
suffered from it myself.”
“Listen to me, young man! I’ve got my eye on you. I suggested to Connie
that it would be simpler for her to go in with Shep. I love Connie;
she’s always been nice to me. But Connie’s not just a safe chum for
you. Your fascinations might be a trifle too--too----”
“Too,” he supplied mockingly, “much for me?”
“Don’t be silly! Connie’s a young woman of charm, and she likes to use
it. And you’re not without a little of the same ingredient. You may
be nice and friendly with Connie--_and_ Shep--but you mustn’t forget
that there is Shep. Shep’s a nice, dear boy. I’m strong for Shepherd. I
could cry when I see how much in love he is with Connie! And of course
she doesn’t love him in any such way. She sort o’ mothers and pets him.
She still has her grand love affair before her. Isn’t this nasty of me
to be talking of her in this fashion! But I don’t want you to be the
victim. One drive alone with her is enough for you in one evening!”
“Oh, but----”
“Oh, all the buts! We haven’t been talking of her at all! Aren’t the
shadows of that tall tree interesting?”
The shadows of the tall tree were not particularly interesting, but
Bruce, speculating a little as to what Mrs. Torrence would say if she
knew he had kissed Constance on the drive out, was guiltily glad that
she had concluded what he felt to be a well-meant warning against
getting in too deep with Mrs. Shepherd Mills.
“You’ve got a big future,” Mrs. Torrence remarked later. “Nothing’s
going to spoil it. But socially, walk softly. This is a city of
illusions. It’s the fashion to pretend that everybody’s awfully good.
Of course everybody isn’t! But it’s better to fall in with the idea.
I’m just giving you the hint. Take Franklin Mills for your model.
Always know the right people and do the right thing. There’s a man who
never sinned in all his life. You’re lucky to have caught his eye so
soon! I saw him watching you tonight--with approval, I mean. He’s a man
of power. I advise you to cultivate him a little.”
“Oh, my knowing him is just a matter of chance,” Bruce replied
indifferently.
“He’s the most interesting man in town and all the more so because
he’s puzzling--not all on the surface. An unusual person. And to think
he has a daughter like Leila and a son like Shep! I love them both;
they’re so unlike him! You wouldn’t know them for the same breed. One
couldn’t love _him_, you know; he’s far too selfish and self-satisfied
for that!”