"Pussy is talking of our all going to India next winter."
"India;--what for?"
"She always wants to go some place."
"You aren't going to India?" (Lover's alarms.)
"Of course I shan't!"
One easily might undervalue Adelle's passion, however, if it were judged
solely by its intellectual quality. The beauty and the wonder of passion
is that it cannot be weighed by any mental scales, its terms are not
transferable. Adelle's share of the universal mystery, in spite of the
banality of its expression, may have been as great as any woman's who
ever lived. At least it filled her being and swept her to unexpected
heights of feeling and power.
She was completely happy at this time, but Archie after the first days
was restless and somewhat bored. There were long periods when he could
neither make love nor paint, and he took to spending his idle evenings
at the Casino, which was not good for his slender purse. As the weeks
passed and their ruses seemed successful, the two grew more reckless and
indulged in flying expeditions about the country roads in Adelle's
little car. One evening, as they were returning in the sunset glow from
a long jaunt down the coast, Adelle at the wheel and Archie's arm
encircling her waist, they came plump upon Irene Paul and Pussy Comstock
in a hired motor. Adelle stiffened and threw on high speed. They dashed
past in a whirl of dust, but the Paul girl's eyes met Adelle's. She felt
sure of Irene, and hoped that Pussy had not recognized them. But they
must be more careful in the future. If Pussy found out--well, they must
"do something." This time she shouldn't be deprived of Archie. Never!
Adelle dressed slowly, revolving in her mind what she should say to
Irene, who had called Archie a "bounder," and descended to the salon
where the family were waiting for her. Nothing was said until they were
seated at the dinner-table. Irene obstinately kept her eyes away and
Adelle felt troubled. Suddenly Miss Comstock, looking across the table
with her penetrating smile, asked sweetly,--"Don't you find it difficult
to drive as you were this afternoon, Adelle?"
Like all clumsy persons Adelle lied and lied badly. She had not been on
the road since she took Eveline to the Casino. Pussy must have been
mistaken. Miss Comstock did not press the point, but Irene Paul looked
at Adelle and smiled wickedly. Adelle knew that she had been betrayed
and her heart sank. Presently Miss Comstock began to talk about the
red-haired artist who was living in a picturesque cottage out on the
Pluydell road. A very ordinary young American, she observed cuttingly.
Had the girls seen him sketching? Adelle knew that the blood was
mounting to her pale face, and she bent her head over her food. The end
had come.
That evening they went to the Casino to hear the music, and by chance
Archie was there, too, and threw self-conscious glances towards their
table. Between the soothing strains of Franz Lehr, Pussy whispered into
Adelle's ear,--
"Why don't you bow to your young friend? He looks as if he wanted to
join us."
Adelle gazed at her tormentor pitifully, but said nothing. The rest of
the evening she sat in cold misery trying to think what might happen,
resolved that in any case the worst should not happen: she would not
lose her Archie. She returned to the villa in dumb pain to await in her
room the expected visit. She did not even undress, preferring to be
ready for instant action. Soon there was a knock and Pussy entered. She
was in her dressing-gown and looked formidable and unlovely to the girl.
"Adelle," she said with a sneer, sitting down before the fire, "I
thought you knew too much to do this sort of thing."
Adelle was silent.
"And such a common bounder, too!"
It was Irene Paul's opprobrious epithet, which Adelle was beginning to
comprehend. She winced, but made no reply.
"You might easily get yourself into serious trouble, my dear, with a man
like that."
Adelle cowered under the stings of her lash and said nothing.
"I shall write the young man to-morrow that if he wants to see you he
had better pay his visits here," she said tolerantly. "This is your
house--you can see him here, you know. There are ways and ways of doing
such things, my dear."
With a yawn and a hateful smile Pussy departed.
It was over, and she was alive. At first Adelle felt relieved until she
pondered what it meant. Archie would be exposed to the keen shafts of
Pussy's contempt and to the girls' titters and snubs. And probably there
would be no chance at all for the kissing and all the rest. It was
Pussy's clever way of effectually disposing of Archie. She understood
that.
Adelle stayed awake for several hours, a most unusual occurrence,
revolving matters in her confused mind. When she could stand it no
longer she got up, dressed herself carefully in her motoring dress, and
stole downstairs through the silent house, out to the garage which was
at the other end of the garden. Eveline's little Pomeranian squeaked
once, but did not arouse the household. Adelle cranked her car
feverishly and succeeded at last, after much effort, in starting the
engine and in pushing back the garage door. It was by far the most
desperate step in life she had ever taken, and she felt ready to faint.
She clambered into the car and released the clutch, more dead than
alive, as she thought. With a leap and a whir she was down the road to
Archie's cottage.