Laura gasped, and opened wide her eyes. A house of her own on Riverside
Drive! She had always wished for that; it had been the dream of her
life. Why--it meant that independence, wealth were already hers! She
need have no more gnawing anxiety about the future. The price? Well,
had she not paid it already? Perhaps she had been foolish. The world is
hard--one never gets the credit for trying to be decent. Who would
care? Yes--one would. She saw a pair of honest gray eyes seeking hers
and questioning her, demanding if she had been true to their
oath--"until death!"
"A new part!" she faltered. "What kind of a part?"
A covert smile played about the broker's lips. He had noted her
hesitation, and well he knew the weight of his words. He had not
studied women all these years for nothing. Carelessly he went on:
"One of Charlie Burgess's shows, translated from some French fellow.
It's been running over in Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and all those places
for a year or more, and appears to be a tremendous hit. It's a big
production, and it's going to cost a lot of money to do it here. I told
Charlie he could put me down for a half-interest and I'd give all the
money, provided that you got an important role. Great part, I'm
told--just the kind of thing you've been looking for. Looks as if it
might stay in New York all season. That's the change of plan. How does
it strike you?"
Laura averted her face and made no reply. Going to the edge of the
terrace, she leaned against the balustrade, and gazed once more into
the depths below. The sun had already begun to set behind the distant
mountain-tops, and the canon was beautiful in its tints of purple and
amber.
"How does it strike you?" he repeated.
"I don't know," she replied without turning her head.
He rose from his seat and strolled towards her. The good-humor had
faded out of his face. The lines about his mouth were more tightly
drawn. It was evident that his patience was exhausted and that he was
becoming angry. But Brockton never made a scene. No matter how incensed
he might be, he never lost his _sang froid_ or forgot his manners.
Quietly he asked:
"Feel like quitting?"
"I can't tell," she replied in the same indifferent tone.
"So it's the newspaper man, eh?"
"That would be the only reason."
Turning quickly, he placed himself in a position so that he faced her.
Looking her steadily in the eyes, he said slowly:
"You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you?"
She instantly noted the change in his tone. Her face grew a shade
paler, but she looked up at him without flinching. Quickly she said:
"What do you mean by 'on the square'?"
"Don't evade," he exclaimed, slightly raising his voice. "There's only
one meaning when I say that--and you know it. I'm pretty liberal,
Laura, but you understand where I draw the line----" Sternly and more
slowly he added: "You've not jumped that, have you?"
The girl tossed her head haughtily. There are some questions no one may
ask or answer. She looked him straight in the face. He could read
nothing there. Quietly she said:
"This has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully different
summer." It was her turn to be ironical when she added: "Can you
understand what I mean by that, when I say 'a wonderfully different
summer'?"
The broker smiled in spite of himself.
"So--he's thirty and 'broke,' and you're twenty-five and pretty. He
evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar gift of gab that we
call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not blind. You both think
you've fallen in love. That it?"
"Yes," replied the girl gravely. "I think that's about it, only I don't
agree with the 'gift of gab' and the 'romantic' end of it. He's a man
and I'm a woman, and we've both had our adventures. His are more
respectable than mine, that's all." Musingly, as if to herself, she
added: "I don't think, Will, that there can be much of that element
which some folk describe as hallucination. We know what we're about."
Picking up from the table a box of candies which the broker had brought
her, she selected one of the sugared delicacies and popped it in her
mouth. Brockton walked up and down with long, nervous strides. The
girl's calmness disconcerted him. With all his experience, he was at a
loss how to handle her. Perhaps he might try a final shot.
"Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show offer are off,
eh?" he said sharply.
Hesitatingly she answered:
"I don't say that."
"And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow," he
went on bitterly, "you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow or wait until
the day after you leave!"
"I didn't say that, either," she replied, replacing the candy box on
the table.
He stopped short.
"What's the game?" he demanded impatiently.
"I can't tell you now."
"Waiting for him to come?"
"Exactly."
"Think he's serious, eh?"
"I know he is."
"Marriage?"
"Possibly."
He laughed ironically.
"You've tried that once," he said, "and taken the wrong end. Are you
going to play the same game again?"
"Yes--but with a different card," she answered.
"What's his name?"
"Madison--John Madison."
Picking up a magazine, she slowly turned the pages.
"And his job?"
"I told you--a reporter."
The broker gave a low and expressive whistle. Sarcastically he
inquired: "What are you going to live on--extra editions?"
"No, we're young, there's plenty of time," she answered calmly. "I can
work in the meantime and so can he. With his ability and my ability it
will only be a matter of a year or two when things will shape
themselves to make it possible."
Brockton chuckled to himself.
"Sounds well--a year off."
Irritated at his facetious tone and bantering manner, the girl plainly
showed her resentment. Her face flushed, and, throwing down the
magazine, she went towards the door of the house. Petulantly she cried:
"If I had thought you were going to make fun of me, Will, I wouldn't
have talked to you at all."
Quickly he made a step forward and intercepted her.
"I don't want to make fun of you, but you must realize that after two
years it isn't exactly pleasant to be dumped with so little ceremony.
Maybe you have never given me any credit for possessing the slightest
feeling, but even I can receive shocks from other sources than a break
in the market."
She stopped and looked at him kindly. Her voice was softened as she
said:
"It isn't easy for me to do this, Will. You've been awfully kind,
awfully considerate, but when I went to you it was just with the
understanding that we were to be pals. You reserved the right then to
quit me whenever you felt like it, and you gave me the same privilege.
Now, if some girl came along who really captivated you in the right
way, and you wanted to marry, it would hurt me a little--maybe a
lot--but I should never forget that agreement we made, a sort of two
weeks' notice clause, like people have in contracts."
The broker turned away, visibly moved. Striding up to the edge of the
terrace, he stood looking down into the canon. Laura remained where he
had left her, looking after him. There followed a long silence, which
at length he broke.
"I'm not hedging, Laura. If that's the way you want it to be, I'll
stand by just exactly what I said." Turning and looking at her, he went
on: "But I'm fond of you, a damned sight fonder than I thought I was,
now that I find you slipping away; but if this young fellow is on the
square----"
She approached him and slipped her hand in his. He went on:
"If he's on the square, and has youth and ability, and you've been on
the square with him, why, all right. Your life hasn't had much in it to
help you get a diploma from any celestial college, and if you can start
out now and be a good girl, have a good husband, and maybe some day
good children, why--I'm not going to stand in the way. Only, I don't
want you to make any of those mistakes that you made before."
"I know," she smiled sadly, "but somehow I feel that this time the real
thing has come and with it the real man. I can't tell you, Will, how
much different it is, but everything I felt before seemed so sort of
earthy--and somehow the love that I have for this man is so different.
For the first time in my life it's made me want to be truthful and
sincere and humble. The only other thing I ever had that I cared the
least bit about, now that I look back, was your friendship."
Impulsively throwing her arms around him, she added: "We have been good
pals, haven't we?"
He smiled as he fondled her.
"Yes; it's been a mighty good two years for me. I was always proud to
take you around, because I think you are one of the prettiest things in
New York."
Playfully, her good spirits once more in the ascendant, she jumped into
the armchair with a little girlish laugh. He went on:
"You're always jolly and you never complained. You spent a lot of
money, but it was a pleasure to see you spend it, and what's more, you
never offended me. Most women offend men by coming around looking
untidy and sort of unkempt, but somehow you always knew the value of
your beauty and you always dressed up. I always thought that maybe some
day the fellow would come along, grab you, and make you happy in a nice
way, but I thought that he'd have to have a lot of money. You know,
you've lived a rather extravagant life for five years, Laura. It won't
be an easy job to come down to cases and suffer for the little dainty
necessities you've been used to."
She sat leaning forward, her chin resting on her hands, a serious,
far-away expression on her face. Slowly she said:
"I've thought all about that, and I think I understand."
"You know how it is," he went on. "If you were working without
anybody's help, you might have a hard time getting an engagement. As an
actress, you're only fair."
Laura toyed impatiently with her parasol.
"You needn't remind me of that," she said testily. "That part of my
life is my own. I don't want you to start now and make it harder for me
to do the right thing. It isn't fair; it isn't square, and it isn't
right. You've got to let me go my own way." Putting her hand on the
broker's shoulder, she went on: "I'm sorry to leave you, Will, in a
way, but I want you to know that if I go with John it changes the
spelling of the word 'comradeship' into 'love,' and the word 'mistress'
into 'wife.' Now, please don't talk any more."
"Just a word," he interrupted. "Is it absolutely settled?"
"I told you I didn't know exactly what our plans are," she answered
impatiently. "I shall know to-day--that's what I'm waiting for. I can't
understand why he doesn't come."
The broker, whose gaze had been idly sweeping the canon, suddenly sat
up and pointed up the pass.
"Is that the fellow, coming up here?" he exclaimed.
Laura rose quickly from her seat, and, running to the balustrade,
peered over.
"Where?" she asked.
"Up the road there," said Brockton, pointing. "Don't you see the man on
that yellow horse?"
She looked a moment, straining her eyes.
"Yes--that's John!" Waving her handkerchief and putting one hand to her
mouth, she cried out: "Hello!"
From the distance came the sound of a man's voice:
"Hello yourself!"
"Hurry up, you're late!" cried Laura, her face now flushed from
pleasure and excitement.
"Better late than never," came the rejoinder.
"Hurry up," she repeated.
"Not with this horse," was the answer.
Laura turned to Brockton, her face beaming. Enthusiastically she
exclaimed:
"Now, Will, does he look like a yellow reporter?"
The broker's face broke into a rather uncomfortable smile.
"He _is_ a good-looking chap."
The girl leaned far over the balustrade to watch her lover's progress.
"Oh, he's just simply more than that!" Turning quickly to the broker,
she asked: "Where's Mrs. Williams?"
He pointed indoors.
"She was in there playing bridge when I came out."
Going hurriedly to the door leading into the house, Laura called out:
"Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. Williams!"
"What is it, my dear?" replied her hostess from within.
"Mr. Madison is coming up the path."
"That's good," came the reply. "He's just in time for dinner."
"Won't you come out and see him?"
"No, my child. I'm up to my neck in bridge. I'm six dollars and twenty
cents out now, and up against an awful streak of luck."
"Shall I invite him to dinner?"
"Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his fingers when he thinks of
me."
The girl ran back to Brockton, who was still standing at the edge of
the terrace, watching the rider's progress. Slipping her hand
involuntarily through the broker's arm and looking eagerly with him
over the balustrade, she asked with girlish enthusiasm:
"Do you like him?"
"I don't know him," replied Brockton with an amused smile.
"Well, do you think you'll like him?" she persisted.
"I hope I'll like him," he answered reservedly.
"Well, if you hope you'll like him, you ought to think you'll like him.
He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute, and then you can
see him. Do you want to see him?"
"Why, yes--do you?" he replied, amused at her girlish enthusiasm.
"Do I?" she echoed. "Why, I haven't seen him since last night. There he
is!" Waving her hand wildly, she cried out: "Hello, John!"
The rider was now close at hand, for Madison's voice was heard in all
the fullness of its rich, deep tones:
"Hello, girlie! How's everything?"
"Fine!" she called back. "Do hurry."
"Tell that to this horse, will you? The word 'hurry' is not in his
dictionary."
"I'm coming down to meet you," she called again.
"All right!" came the answer.
Turning quickly to Brockton, like a spoilt child, pleading for a favor,
she said demurely:
"You don't care. You'll wait, won't you?"
"Sure," replied the broker laconically.
The girl ran nimbly down the stairs of the terrace, and disappeared
among the cactus bushes.