Elise was standing just inside the door, smiling at him from the
shadows.
She had changed her costume. A gauzy black wrap covered her black
evening gown, from which her white shoulders could be seen rising.
Her small, tight-fitting black hat was draped with black lace that
shaded her eyes almost with the effect of a mask. She was quite
aware of the impression she made as she stood there silently. The
tired man raised his eyes and stared at her. Then he pulled his
long, handsome body out of the chair and arose questioningly.
At length she approached him and said lightly, "Ah, you are a man of
your word after all. I was afraid the work was just a bluff."
"Why have you come back?" he asked almost sharply from behind the
table. "You must go at once."
"Oh, don't be annoyed, Rodrigo. No one saw me come in. I have a
private key to the place, you know. Please don't begrudge me the
innocent pleasure of doing something slightly clandestine." She came
near to the chair opposite him, and went on, "And now that I am here,
won't you be a polite host and ask me to sit down?" Without waiting
for the invitation, she took the chair, laying aside her wrap as she
did so.
He sank into the chair opposite and rustled the papers uneasily.
"I haven't had dinner yet, Rodrigo," she suggested. "I thought that
if I came back you might relent and take me to dinner. In fact, I
was so sure of it that I dashed up to Aunt Helen's and changed my
gown."
He was silent for a moment, and then he raised his head suddenly and,
looking her in the eyes, said, "I'm sorry you came back, and I won't
take you to dinner. But now that you are here, it's as good a time
as any to talk certain things out that are bound to come up sooner or
later."
She made a wry little face, cupped her finely ovaled chin in her
hands, and smiled at him. "Heavens, Rodrigo, I believe you, of all
men, are about to preach to me. Please don't, I beg of you!
Remember that I am the wife of a man who is somewhat of a preacher."
"Leave John out of it," he returned. "He's altogether too good for
either of us to discuss. You and I understand each other, Elise. I
am quite aware of the game you have been playing. I----"
She cut in with an unpleasant little laugh. She rather enjoyed his
violent seriousness.
"So--I have been playing a game," she encouraged him.
"Yes. You married John for his money. You wanted to marry me until
you discovered that I was poor."
She was not offended. "Why didn't you warn your best friend then, if
you saw through my purpose so clearly?" she asked calmly.
"What chance did I have to warn him? He was head over heels in love
with you at once, and it was too late. It would have half killed the
poor chap to tell him the truth. I had to let him make his mistake."
Her smile left her face and her eyes darkened. "No, I will not let
you say that," she replied earnestly. "I will grant you that I
married John chiefly for his money. I admire him--but I have never
loved him. And I did outwit you, my friend. You made a very clever
attempt to show John what an error he was making in falling in love
with me, but I forestalled you. And that was quite a feat, Rodrigo,
for you are usually rather keen in matters of that sort.
"But I have made John happy. He tells me that fifty times a
day--fifty times too many! One does not enjoy having it drummed into
one that one is an angel. I have taken his money and his love, but I
have been faithful to him and I have made him a good wife. Now I
think I have earned the right to a little something for myself."
He stared at her tensely. "What do you mean, Elise?" he asked.
Her manner lost its hardness, and she leaned toward him.
"I _had_ to marry the wrong man, Rodrigo," she said softly. "My
whole existence has had its foundation in money. But it hasn't made
me happy. I have been miserable ever since my marriage. It hasn't
made me stop--loving you!"
"Elise--no! You mustn't say that," he cried, and rose swiftly to his
feet.
She had risen too as she said, "I won't believe that you are as
surprised as you pretend to be. You must have guessed it plainly
enough many times. I think that we were meant for each other and
that a few words spoken by a minister is not going to keep us apart.
I will ask John for a divorce if you wish, and marry you. I will do
anything--but I will not go on living a lie."
He stared at her, fascinated, wondering if he had heard her aright.
Had some malignant fate brought her and her confession to him at the
precise moment when Mary had abandoned him?
He said slowly, "You will have to go on. You are mad to think of
anything else. I will go away at once, home to Italy. I had planned
to go over there this fall anyway. But I will change my plans, and
not return."
She laughed. "And you think that I am innocent enough to believe
that would be the only reason for your departure. Mary Drake has
evidently told you that she is leaving here also."
He started, suspicion dawning in his eyes. He asked, "Mary has told
you that? You must have spoken to her about me first. What did you
say to her?"
"Yes, I spoke to her about you. I told her the truth. I told her
that she could never be happy with you, that you are not the sort to
stay contented with such a wife. And I think she agreed with me.
She is a very sensible girl. There are certain traits in your
character, Rodrigo, that a girl like Mary could never reconcile
herself to."
He returned fiercely, "That's rot! If there's anything about me that
Mary could object to, it's long since passed. I'm through with my
past forever. No woman in the world means a thing to me but Mary."
Her answer was to come close to him and say softly, "You have lost
Mary forever, Rodrigo. In your heart you know it. And in your heart
you know that what you have just said is nonsense. I dare you to
test it. I dare you to hold me in your arms and repeat it. I dare
you to kiss me--and then let me go!"
He caught her hand. "Elise, are you crazy!" But he did not
relinquish her hand, until her arms had slipped slowly around his
neck and her lips were very close to his.
"Why do we pretend any longer, you and I?" she murmured. "You are
not like John or Mary. You are only chasing thin, white shadows when
you try to fashion yourself after them." And with a swift movement
of her head she had kissed him.
He cried, "No--no! You must go--please."
"I love you." And she clung to him.
Fascinated, harassed, he did not resist her any longer. He took her
into his arms and buried her face in his kisses.
When at last he let her go, she still held him close and said almost
in a whisper, "We will go to the Van Clair, Rodrigo, and dine high up
on the roof, near the stars. You can go to your appointment
afterward. No one will know--or care."
"Except our own souls."
"I don't believe we have any," she said, with a queer little note of
solemnity. "I think this life, this happiness, is all--and we must
take it while we may."
He kissed her again, completely under her spell, and then he said
tensely, "Go now, Elise. I will finish here, and I will meet you in
fifteen minutes at the Van Clair."
Obediently she secured her wrap from the table, flung it about her
and started for the door.
She smiled back at him, whispering, "In fifteen minutes, Rodrigo."
And just as she closed the door, "I love you."
He turned, his emotions running riot within him, back to the papers
on his desk. For ten minutes he tried in vain to work. Then, with a
gesture of helplessness, he started tossing the papers into his brief
case. He had risen and taken his hat when the telephone rang.
It was John.
"Did you line up the stuff, Rodrigo?" came Dorning's distant voice.
"I took a chance on finding you at the office. I wanted to make sure
to-night that everything was all right and you were coming down here,
because Hodge and Story's representative just got in and is all set
to take the business away from us."
John! It was like the voice of a rescuing angel. Rodrigo with an
effort composed himself and replied, "Everything is fine, John, and
I'm taking a train in half an hour."
"Great," said the voice on the wire. "And Elise--did you have dinner
with her? Have you seen her?"
Rodrigo replied, "No."
By the time he had hung up the receiver he had made his decision.
Elise's spell was broken, broken by that trusting voice on the wire.
He would not even telephone her that he was not coming to her. He
could not trust himself to talk with her. If she were desperately
offended, so much the better!
He seized his brief case and hat and made for the door and a taxi-cab.