She rang the front door-bell again, but this time the doctor didn’t let
her in. He looked at her through the screen door and shook his head.
"No!" he said softly. "Better go away. Don’t make any disturbance, for
your own sake."
"I only want to speak to Vincent," she said, plaintively.
"Better not. Go away now. Nobody’s seen you. Vincent and I are alone in
the house. I’ll never mention it. I’m your friend, you know; and you
must be my friend if I need one, won’t you?"
He had heard rumours, which he didn’t quite believe, that Eddie was to
marry this remarkable young woman. He knew that Eddie was capable of
extraordinarily quixotic deeds, and he thought it just as well to have a
friend at court, in case---- Moreover, he liked Angelica, and was well
disposed toward her. The rebuffs he had received, rude as they had been,
hadn’t either hurt or discouraged him. The Lord who had made him so
vulnerable to the charms of the fair sex had likewise provided him with
a sort of protective armour.
"Of course I’ll be your friend," said Angelica; "but I just must speak
to Vincent."
"I thought you had seen him," said the doctor. "You went up-stairs."
"I forgot to tell him something very important. If you don’t want me to
come, just make him come down here--please!"
She knew how to be meek enough to serve her ends.
"Please!" she said again, with all her cajolery. "Please, doctor! Just
get him to come down and speak to me through the door--just for an
instant!"
He hesitated.
"I want to do anything I can for you----”
"And wouldn’t you please just pay that cab?" she said. "I’m afraid he’ll
wait till you do."
He had a little money on hand, as it happened, and he was proud to be
able to play so gallant a rôle.
"With pleasure!" he said. "But then won’t you agree to postpone your
talk with Vincent?"
"I can’t!" she cried, piteously. "Oh, do please get him down!"
"Very well," he said, with a sigh and a smile.
She waited patiently, close to the screen. Everything was quiet. The
waiting chauffeur had shut off his engine and sat on the step of his
cab, smoking. Far away, from some other house, came the thumping rhythm
of a piano-player, and quite close to her the busy chirping of little
nocturnal insects.
Before very long, Vincent’s heavy tread sounded on the stairs. His big
body loomed up in the dim light of the hall, and drew near to her; but
he did not unlock the door. She suppressed a smile. He was afraid of
her--that big, masterful poet, forever proclaiming himself a _man_!
"Well!" he demanded, sternly, of the girl outside.
"I spoiled your letter," she said. "Eddie’ll never get it."
"What? I’ll write another----”
"You’d better not do that, Vincent. He wouldn’t be pleased with the way
you’ve acted."
"Perhaps not; but it’s my duty----”
"Don’t any of them know? Not your mother or any one?"
"Of course not. I’m not the sort to tell such a thing. If it wasn’t my
duty now, I wouldn’t."
"I thought it was to get money to help me out."
"Well--yes, partly; but he really ought to know, in case he still thinks
of marrying you."
"No," she said quietly. "He mustn’t know. Look here, Vincent! I’ve done
this one bad thing in my life. I never did anything bad before, and I
never will again; but if it was known, I’d never be forgiven. I’d never
get another chance--from any one; and I mean to have another chance.
It’s never going to be known. I’m not going to be ruined and wasted,
just for one--badness. It’s going to be wiped out, I tell you!"
"It will never be wiped out. You’ll never forget, Angelica--you’ll
never, never forget me. You can’t love again. You’ve lost heaven, my
girl."
She was still for a moment.
"Maybe I have," she said. "Maybe I have lost heaven. But," she went on,
"I’ll get what I can, anyway. I’m going to have my chance. Vincent!"
Her voice was so low that he had to press against the screen to hear
her; and her words came in an incredibly ferocious whisper, that turned
his blood cold:
"If ever you tell him, Vincent, I swear to Gawd I’ll kill you!"