CAVE-MAN STUFF
"Cave-man stuff," Billy said to Dick, pointing a thumb over his
shoulder toward the interior of the Broadway moving-picture palace at
the exit of which they had just met accidentally. "It always goes big,
doesn't it?"
"It does," Dick agreed thoughtfully, "in the movies anyhow."
"Caroline says that the modern woman has her response to that kind of
thing refined all out of her." Billy intended his tone to be entirely
jocular, but there was a note of anxiety in it that was not lost on
his friend.
Dick paused under the shelter of a lurid poster--displaying a fierce
gentleman in crude blue, showing all his teeth, and in the act of
strangling an early Victorian ingenue with a dimple,--and lit a
cigarette with his first match.
"Caroline may have," he said, puffing to keep his light against the
breeze, "but I doubt it."
"Rough stuff doesn't seem to appeal to her," Billy said, quite
humorously this time.
"She's healthy," Dick mused, "rides horseback, plays tennis and all
that. Wouldn't she have liked the guy that swung himself on the roof
between the two poles?" He indicated again the direction of the
theater from which they had just emerged.
"She would have liked him," Billy said gloomily, "but the show
would have started her arguing about this whole moving-picture
proposition,--its crudity, and its tremendous sacrifice of artistic
values, and so on and so on."
"Sure, she's a highbrow. Highbrows always cerebrate about the movies
in one way or another. Nancy doesn't get it at just that angle, of
course. She hasn't got Caroline's intellectual appetite. She's not
interested in the movies because she hasn't got a moving-picture house
of her own. The world is not Nancy's oyster--it's her lump of putty."
"I don't know which is the worst," Billy said. "Caroline won't listen
to anything you say to her,--but then neither will Nancy."
"Women never listen to anything," Dick said profoundly, "unless
they're doing it on purpose, or they happen to be interested. I
imagine Caroline is a little less tractable, but Nancy is capable of
doing the most damage. She works with concrete materials. Caroline's
kit is crammed with nothing but ideas."
"Nothing _but_--" Billy groaned.
"As for this cave-man business--theoretically, they ought to react to
it,--both of them. They're both normal, well-balanced young ladies."
"They're both runnin' pretty hard to keep in the same place, just at
present."
"Nancy isn't doing that--not by a long shot," Dick said.
"She's not keeping in the same place certainly," Billy agreed.
"Caroline is all eaten up by this economic independence idea."
"It's a good idea," Dick admitted; "economic conditions are
changing. No reason at all that a woman shouldn't prove herself
willing to cope with them, as long as she gets things in the order
of their importance. Earning her living isn't better than the
Mother-Home-and-Heaven job. It's a way out, if she gets left, or
gets stung."
"I'm only thankful Caroline can't hear you." Billy raised pious eyes
to heaven but he continued more seriously after a second, "It's all
right to theorize, but practically speaking both our girls are getting
beyond our control."
"I'm not engaged to Nancy," Dick said a trifle stiffly.
"Well, you ought to be," Billy said.
Dick stiffened. He was not used to speaking of his relations with
Nancy to any one--even to Billy, who was the closest friend he
had. They walked up Broadway in silence for a while, toward the
cross-street which housed the university club which was their common
objective.
"I know I ought to be," Dick said, just as Billy was formulating an
apology for his presumption, "or I ought to marry her out of hand.
This watchful waiting's entirely the wrong idea."
"Why do we do it then?" Billy inquired pathetically.
"I wanted Nancy to sow her economic wild oats. I guess you felt the
same way about Caroline."
"Well, they've sowed 'em, haven't they?"
"Not by a long shot. That's the trouble,--they don't get any forrider,
from our point of view. I thought it would be the best policy to stand
by and let Nancy work it out. I thought her restaurant would either
fail spectacularly in a month, or succeed brilliantly and she'd make
over the executive end of it to somebody else. I never thought of her
buckling down like this, and wearing herself out at it."
"There's a pretty keen edge on Caroline this summer."
"I'm afraid Nancy's in pretty deep," Dick said. "The money end of it
worries me as much as anything."
"I wouldn't let that worry me."
"She won't take any of mine, you know."
"I know she won't. See here, Dick, I wouldn't worry about Nancy's
finances. She'll come out all right about money."
"What makes you think so?"
"I know so. We've got lots of things in the world to worry about,
things that are scheduled to go wrong unless we're mighty delicate in
the way we handle 'em. Let's worry about _them_, and leave Nancy's
financial problems to take care of themselves."
"Which means," Dick said, "that you are sure that she's all right. I'm
not in her confidence in this matter--"
"Well, I am," Billy said, "I'm her legal adviser, and with all due
respect to your taste in girls, it's a very difficult position to
occupy. What with the things she won't listen to and the things she
won't learn, and the things she actually knows more about than I
do--"
The indulgent smile of the true lover lit Dick's face, as if Billy had
waxed profoundly eulogistic. Unconsciously, Billy's own tenderness
took fire at the flame.
"Why don't we run away with 'em?" he said, breathing heavily.
Dick stopped in a convenient doorway to light his third cigarette, end
on.
"It's the answer to you and Caroline," he said.
"Why not to you and Nancy?"
"It may be," Dick said, "I dunno. I've reached an _impasse_. Still
there is a great deal in your proposition."
They turned in at the portico that extended out over the big oak doors
of their club. An attendant in white turned the knob for them, with
the grin of enthusiastic welcome that was the usual tribute to these
two good-looking, well set up young men from those who served them.
"I'll think it over," Dick added, as he gave up his hat and stick,
"and let you know what decision I come to."
In another five minutes they were deep in a game of Kelly-pool from
which Dick emerged triumphantly richer by the sum of a dollar and
ninety cents, and Billy the poorer by the loss of a quarter.
* * * * *
There is a town in Connecticut, within a reasonable motoring distance
from New York that has been called the Gretna Green of America. Here
well-informed young couples are able to expedite the business of
matrimony with a phenomenal neatness and despatch. Licenses can be
procured by special dispensation, and the nuptial knot tied as
solemnly and solidly as if a premeditated train of bridesmaids and
flower girls and loving relatives had been rehearsed for days in
advance.
Dick and his Rolls-Royce had assisted at a hymeneal celebration or
two, where a successful rush had been made for the temporary altars of
this beneficent town with the most felicitous results, and he knew the
procedure. When he and Billy organized an afternoon excursion into
Connecticut, they tacitly avoided all mention of the consummation they
hoped to bring about, but they both understood the nature and
significance of the expedition. Dick,--who was used to the easy
accomplishment of his designs and purposes, for most obstacles gave
way before his magnetic onslaught,--had only sketchily outlined his
scheme of proceedings, but he trusted to the magic of that inspiration
that seldom or never failed him. He was the sort of young man that the
last century novelists always referred to as "fortune's favorite," and
his luck so rarely betrayed him that he had almost come to believe it
to be invincible.
His general idea was to get Nancy and Caroline to drive into the
country, through the cool rush of the freer purer air of the suburbs,
give them lunch at some smart road-house, soothingly restful and dim,
where the temperature was artificially lowered, and they could powder
their noses at will; and from thence go on until they were within the
radius of the charmed circle where modern miracles were performed
while the expectant bridegroom waited.
"Nancy, my dear, we are going to be married,"--that he had formulated,
"we're going to be done with all this nonsense of waiting and doubting
the evidence of our own senses and our own hearts. We're going to put
an end to the folly of trying to do without each other,--your folly of
trying to feed all itinerant New York; my folly of standing by and
letting you do it, or any other fool thing that your fancy happens to
dictate. You're mine and I'm yours, and I'm going to take you--take
you to-day and prove it to you." This was to be timed to be delivered
at just about the moment when they drew up in front of the office of
the justice of the peace, who was Dick's friend of old. "Hold up your
head, my dear, and put your hat on straight; we're going into that
building to be made man and wife, and we're not coming out of it until
the deed has been done." In some such fashion, he meant to carry it
through. Many a time in the years gone by he had steered Nancy through
some high-handed escapade that she would only have consented to on the
spur of the moment. She was one of these women who responded
automatically to the voice of a master. He had failed in mastery this
last year or so. That was the secret of his failure with her, but the
days of that failure were numbered now. He was going to succeed.
On the back seat of the big car he expected Billy and Caroline to be
going through much the same sort of scene.
"We've come to a show-down now, Caroline,--either I sit in this
game, or get out." He could imagine Billy bringing Caroline bluntly
to terms with comparatively little effort. That was what she
needed--Caroline--a strong hand. Billy's problem was simple.
Caroline had already signified her preference for him. She wore his
ring. Billy had only to pick her up, kicking and screaming if need
be, and bear her to the altar. She would marry him if he insisted.
That was clear to the most superficial of observers,--but Nancy was
different.
The day was hot, and grew steadily hotter. By the time Nancy and
Caroline were actually in the car, after an almost superhuman effort
to assemble them and their various accessories of veils and wraps, and
to dispose of the assortment of errands and messages that both girls
seemed to be committed to despatch before they could pass the
boundaries of Greater New York, the two men were very nearly
exhausted. It was only when the chauffeur let the car out to a speed
greatly in excess of the limitations on some clear stretch of road,
that the breath of the country brought them any relief whatsoever.
Dick looked over his shoulder at the two in the back seat, and noted
Caroline's pallor, and the fact that she was allowing a listless hand
to linger in Billy's; but when he turned back to Nancy he discovered
no such encouraging symptoms. She was sitting lightly relaxed at his
side, but there was nothing even negatively responsive in her
attitude. Her color was high; her breath coming evenly from between
her slightly parted lips. She looked like a child oblivious to
everything but some innocent daydream.
"You look as if you were dreaming of candy and kisses, Nancy,--are
you?" he asked presently.
"No, I'm just glad to be free. It's been a long time since I've played
hooky."
"I know it." The "dear" constrained him, and he did not add it:
"You've been working most unholy hard. I--I hate to have you."
"But I was never so happy in my life."
"That's good." His voice hoarsened with the effort to keep it steady
and casual. "Is everything going all right?"
"Fine."
"Is--is the money end of it all right?"
"Yes, that is, I am not worrying about money."
"You're not making money?"
"No."
"You are not losing any?"
"I am--a little. That was to be expected, don't you think so?"
"How much are you losing?"
"I don't know exactly."
"You ought to know. Are you keeping your own books?"
"Betty helps me."
"Are you losing a hundred a month?"
"Yes."
"Five hundred?"
"I suppose so."
"A thousand?"
"I don't really know."
"A thousand?" he insisted.
"Yes," Nancy answered recklessly, "the way I run it."
"It doesn't make any difference, of course;" Dick said, "you've got
all my money behind you."
"I haven't anybody's money behind me except my own."
"You had fifteen thousand dollars. Do you mean to say that you have
any of that left to draw on?"
"No, I don't."
"Do you mind telling me how you are managing?"
"Billy borrowed some money for me."
"On what security?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't he come to me?"
"I told him not to."
"Nancy, do you realize that you're the most exasperating woman that
ever walked the face of this earth?" the unhappy lover asked.
Nancy managed to convey the fact that Dick's asseveration both
surprised and pained her, without resorting to the use of words.
"I wish you wouldn't spoil this lovely party," she said to him a few
seconds later. "I'm extremely tired, and I should like to get my mind
off my business instead of going over these tiresome details with
anybody."
"You look very innocent and kind and loving," Dick said desperately,
"but at heart you're a little fraud, Nancy."
She interrupted him to point out two children laden with wild flowers,
trudging along the roadside.
"See how adorably dirty and happy they are," she cried. "That little
fellow has his shoestrings untied, and keeps tripping on them, he's so
tired, but he's so crazy about the posies that he doesn't care. I
wonder if he's taking them home to his mother."
"You're devoted to children, Nancy, aren't you?" Dick's voice
softened.
"Yes, I am, and some day I'm going to adopt a whole orphan asylum,"--her
voice altered in a way that Dick did not in the least understand. "I
could if I wanted to," she laughed. "Maybe I will want to some day. So
many of my ideas are being changed and modified by experience."
The road-house of his choice, when they reached it, proved to have
deteriorated sadly since his last visit. The cool interior that he
remembered had been inopportunely opened to the hottest blast of the
day's heat, and hermetically sealed again, or at least so it
seemed to Dick; and the furniture was all red and thickly, almost
suffocatingly, upholstered. Nancy had no comment on the torrid air of
the dining-room,--she rarely complained about anything. Even the
presence of a fly in her bouillon jelly scarcely disturbed her
equanimity, but Dick knew that she was secretly sustained by the
conviction that such an accident was impossible under her system
of supervision at Outside Inn, and resented her tranquillity
accordingly.
Caroline, behaving not so well, seemed to him a much more human and
sympathetic figure, though her nose took on a high shine unknown to
Nancy's demurer and more discreetly served features; but Billy
evidently preferred Nancy's deportment, which was on the surface calm
and reassuring.
"Nancy's a sport," he pointed out to Caroline enthusiastically, "no
fly in the ointment gets her goat. She enjoys herself even when she's
perfectly miserable."
"She doesn't feel the heat the way I do," Caroline snapped.
"I feel the heat," Nancy said, "but I--"
"She's got a system," Dick cut in savagely: "she stands it just as
long as she can, and then she takes it out of me in some diabolical
fashion."
Nancy's gray-blue eyes took on the far-away look that those who loved
her had learned to associate with her most baffling moments.
"Just by being especially nice to Dick," she said thoughtfully, "I can
make him more furious with me than in any other way."
Nancy and Caroline finished their sloppy ices at the table together
while Dick and Billy sought the solace of a pipe in the garage
outside.
"I don't understand coming into Connecticut to-day," Nancy said as
soon as they were alone; "it seems like such a stupid excursion for
Dick to make. He's usually pretty good at picking out places to go. In
fact, he has a kind of genius for it."
"He slipped up this time," Caroline said, "I'm so hot."
"So am I," said Nancy, slumping limply into the depths of her red
velour chair. "I want to get back to New York. Oh! what was it you
told me the other day that you had been saving up to tell me?"
Caroline brightened.
"Oh, yes! Why, it was something Collier Pratt said about you. You know
Betty has scraped up quite an acquaintance with him. She goes and sits
down at his table sometimes."
"She's going to be stopped doing _that_," Nancy said.
"Well, you remember the night when you went home early with a
headache, and passed by his table going out?"
"Yes, but I didn't know he saw me."
"He sees everything, Betty says."
"He didn't suspect me?"
"He didn't know you came out of the interior. He said to Betty, 'It's
curious that Miss Martin never stays here to dine in the evening,
though she so often drops in.' Betty is pretty quick, you know. She
said, 'I think Miss Martin is a friend of the proprietor.'"
"So I am," said Nancy, "the best friend she's got. Go on, dear."
"Then he said slowly and thoughtfully, 'It's a crime for a woman like
that not to be the mother of children. If ever I saw a maternal type,
Miss Ann Martin is the apotheosis of it. Why some man hasn't made her
understand that long ago I can not see.'"
Nancy's cheeks burned crimson and then white again.
"How dare Betty?" she said.
"Wait till you hear. You know Betty doesn't care what she says. Her
reply to that was peculiarly Bettyish. She sighed and cast down her
eyes,--the little imp! 'The course of true love never does run
smooth,' she said; 'perhaps Ann has discovered the truth of that old
saying in some new connection.' She didn't mean to be a cat, she was
only trying to create a romantic interest in your affairs, doing as
she would be done by. The effect was more than she bargained for
though. Collier Pratt's eyes quite lit up. 'I can imagine no greater
crime than frustrating the instincts of a woman like that,' he said.
Imagine that--the instincts--whereupon Betty, of course, flounced off
and left him."
"She would," Nancy said. Then a storm of real anger surged through
her. "I'll turn her out of my place to-morrow. I'll never look at her
or speak to her again."
"I think it would be more to the point," Caroline said, "to turn out
Collier Pratt. That was certainly an extraordinary way for him to
speak of you to a girl who is a stranger to him."
"Caroline, you're almost as bad as Betty is. You're both of you
hopelessly--helplessly--provincially American. I don't think that was
extraordinary or impertinent even," Nancy said. "I--I understand how
that man means things."
* * * * *
The car drove up in front of the office of the justice of the peace in
the town beyond that in which they had had their unauspicious luncheon
party.
"Are we stopping here for any particular reason?" Caroline said.
Nancy had not spoken in more than a monosyllable since they had
resumed their places in the car again.
"Not now," Dick said wearily. "I thought I'd point out the sights of
the town. This place is called the Gretna Green of America, you know.
A great many runaway couples come out here to be married. The man
inside that office, the one with whiskers and no collar, is the one
that marries them."
"Does he?" Billy asked a trifle uncertainly.
Nancy turned to Dick with a real appeal in her voice. It was the first
time during the day that she had addressed him with anything like her
natural tenderness and sweetness.
"Oh! Dick, can't we start on?" she said.