"How much have you ... borrowed, Harry?"
"Fifty thou--perhaps a bit more."
Following another little silence, Fanny gave a curt laugh, left her
chair and, standing at the dressing-table, began slowly to strip off her
jewels, her sunburst brooch, her flexible bracelets, the pearls that had
been her mother's, all her rings, even that slender hoop of platinum and
diamonds which she had never removed since the day of her marriage.
"Stocks?" she enquired quietly. Lontaine replied with a dour nod and
grunt. "Somebody's sure-fire tip, of course, some 'deal' that couldn't
lose...." He grunted again. "Never learn anything from experience, do
you, Harry? I've often wondered about the kink in your mind that makes
you such a giddy come-on, eager to risk everything, even your honour, on
the gossip of stock-market touts no better than yourself.... Ah, well!
it can't be helped, I suppose. You are what you are--and in my way, God
knows, I'm no better. It's all been a ghastly failure, hasn't it, Harry?
If I'd been a stronger woman, I might have made it another story for
you; if you'd been more of a man, you might even have saved me...."
Lontaine lifted his hand sharply, but his eyes wavered and fell under
her level, ironic stare. "But it's no good crying now, nothing can
change our natures at this late day."
She crossed to him and paused, looking down not unkindly at his bowed
head and shoulders.
"I don't love you, Harry, and you don't love me. It's funny to think we
ever did--isn't it? All the same, we've been through the rough together
so often, I presume it's only natural I should be fond of you in this
funny, twisted fashion. I don't want you to go away thinking I blame
you...."
"Go away?" Lontaine groaned. "Where can I go, they wouldn't find me? I'd
rather be dead than a convict!"
"Don't worry: I'll soon talk Cindy round, persuade her not to be too
hard on you. She's fond of me, poor dear! and won't find out I'm as
rotten as you are till you're at a safe distance. Here...." She bent
over and poured that coruscating wealth of jewelry into the cup of
Lontaine's hands. "These ought to see you a long way...."
"What!" Lontaine jumped up, staring in daze at the treasure in the hands
that instinctively reached out to Fanny, offering to give back her gift.
But she stepped away and stood with hands behind her, shaking her head
so vigorously that the glistening short locks stood out like a brazen
nimbus. "But, you, Fanny--what will you--?"
"Never fear for me, Harry." She fixed his puzzled eyes with a smile of
profoundly ironical significance. "I'll get along...."
"But these ... every blessed trinket you own!..."
"I'll get others."
His jaw dropped. She continued to posture lightly before him, an
exquisitely fragile and pretty shape of youth deathless and audacious, a
dainty spirit of mockery temptingly incarnate, diabolically sage,
diabolically sure of the potency of her time-old lures.... What she had
urged was true enough, too true; idle to let scruples on her account
work his undoing. Let her alone and she'd get along, no fear, she'd get
other jewels when she wanted them, just as she'd said, she'd go far....
At heart as wanton as he was weak....
He felt a creeping tide of blood begin to scorch his face, and avoided
the cynical challenge of her eyes.
"If you're content," he mumbled ... "daresay there's nothing more to be
said."
She nodded gayly, repeating the word "Nothing!" in a flute-like note of
mirth. Hanging his head, he began wretchedly to stuff the plunder into
his pockets, muttering half to himself: "What a pity! If only I could
have had a bit of luck; if only we could have hit it off----!"
"If you hurry," she reminded him, "you can catch the night train for San
Francisco, you can just about make it."
"Well...." He glanced uneasily at her, and again was conscious of the
heat in his cheeks. "So it comes to this at last ... eh? ... good-bye!"
"Good-bye," she repeated, amiably casual.
"I daresay...." He gave a dubious chuckle. "Daresay it's stupid but,
well, the usual thing, you know...."
"Usual thing?" she parroted, with faintly knitted brows.
"To kiss good-bye."
"You'll miss your train."
He developed a moment of desperately sincere emotion: "Fan! you've been
a perfect brick to me, a perfect brick. I feel like a dog, leaving you
like this."
"Oh!" she said, as one indulges a persistent child--"if you really want
to kiss me, Harry, go ahead."
Nevertheless she turned her mouth aside, his lips brushed only her
powdered cheek. Then she stepped back to her mirror and with a puff made
good her imperceptible damage done by the caress. The glass showed
Lontaine's shadow slinking out. She heard him blunder through the
living-room, the slam of the screen-door. And her hand fumbled, the
powder-puff dropped unheeded, mist drifted across her vision, she
gasped a breathless "Damn!" Tears meant a wrecked make-up....
Though there was need enough for haste if he were to carry out the plan
she had made for him, Lontaine dragged slowly down the walk, with a
hang-dog air, the hands in his pockets fingering the price of the last
sorry shreds of his self-respect. In the darkness the flesh of his face
still burned with fire of shame....
Beside the car he halted and rested with a hand on the door for so long
a time that the chauffeur grew inquisitive.
"Where to, Mr. Lontaine?"
"No, by God!" Lontaine blurted into the man's astonished face, and
whirling about, strode hastily back to the bungalow.
As he drew near he could hear Fanny's voice. She was at the telephone in
the living-room, calling a number he didn't catch; Summerlad's no doubt.
One had forgotten all about that wretched dinner. Then the connection
was established, and he paused with foot lifted to the lower-most of the
veranda steps. It couldn't be possible Fan was talking to Summerlad, in
that voice whose tenderness called back old times....
"Hello? Is it you, dear? Fanny.... First chance I've had.... Poor
darling! I've been aching to see you all day and tell you how I
sympathized.... Yes, any time you please, as soon as you like.... No: he
won't mind, he ... I mean, I'm all alone. Besides, we had a little talk
tonight, came to an understanding. He won't be in our way after this,
ever again, Barry dear...."
Something amused her, peals of musical laughter hunted Lontaine down the
walk. "Union Pacific Station!" he cried, throwing himself into the car.
"Drive like hell!"