He laughed. "That's so. And you see I believed you. Though I might not
have--"
"I don't see the use of beginning like this," she interrupted nervously.
"That's so too. Suppose we walk along a little ways? It's rather chilly
standing round."
He turned down the path that descended toward the Ramble and the girl
moved on beside him with her long flowing steps.
When they had reached the comparative shelter of the interlacing trees
Moffatt paused again to say: "If we're going to talk I'd like to see
you. Undine;" and after a first moment of reluctance she submissively
threw back her veil.
He let his eyes rest on her in silence; then he said judicially: "You've
filled out some; but you're paler." After another appreciative scrutiny
he added: "There's mighty few women as well worth looking at, and I'm
obliged to you for letting me have the chance again."
Undine's brows drew together, but she softened her frown to a quivering
smile.
"I'm glad to see you too, Elmer--I am, REALLY!"
He returned her smile while his glance continued to study her
humorously. "You didn't betray the fact last night. Miss Spragg."
"I was so taken aback. I thought you were out in Alaska somewhere."
The young man shaped his lips into the mute whistle by which he
habitually vented his surprise. "You DID? Didn't Abner E. Spragg tell
you he'd seen me down town?"
Undine gave him a startled glance. "Father? Why, have you seen him? He
never said a word about it!"
Her companion's whistle became audible. "He's running yet!" he said
gaily. "I wish I could scare some people as easy as I can your father."
The girl hesitated. "I never felt toward you the way father did," she
hazarded at length; and he gave her another long look in return.
"Well, if they'd left you alone I don't believe you'd ever have acted
mean to me," was the conclusion he drew from it.
"I didn't mean to, Elmer ... I give you my word--but I was so young ...
I didn't know anything...."
His eyes had a twinkle of reminiscent pleasantry. "No--I don't suppose
it WOULD teach a girl much to be engaged two years to a stiff like
Millard Binch; and that was about all that had happened to you before I
came along."
Undine flushed to the forehead. "Oh, Elmer--I was only a child when I
was engaged to Millard--"
"That's a fact. And you went on being one a good while afterward. The
Apex Eagle always head-lined you 'The child-bride'--"
"I can't see what's the use--now--."
"That ruled out of court too? See here. Undine--what CAN we talk about?
I understood that was what we were here for."
"Of course." She made an effort at recovery. "I only meant to
say--what's the use of raking up things that are over?"
"Rake up? That's the idea, is it? Was that why you tried to cut me last
night?"
"I--oh, Elmer! I didn't mean to; only, you see, I'm engaged."
"Oh, I saw that fast enough. I'd have seen it even if I didn't read the
papers." He gave a short laugh. "He was feeling pretty good, sitting
there alongside of you, wasn't he? I don't wonder he was. I remember.
But I don't see that that was a reason for cold-shouldering me. I'm
a respectable member of society now--I'm one of Harmon B. Driscoll's
private secretaries." He brought out the fact with mock solemnity.
But to Undine, though undoubtedly impressive, the statement did not
immediately present itself as a subject for pleasantry.
"Elmer Moffatt--you ARE?"
He laughed again. "Guess you'd have remembered me last night if you'd
known it."
She was following her own train of thought with a look of pale
intensity. "You're LIVING in New York, then--you're going to live here
right along?"
"Well, it looks that way; as long as I can hang on to this job. Great
men always gravitate to the metropolis. And I gravitated here just as
Uncle Harmon B. was looking round for somebody who could give him an
inside tip on the Eubaw mine deal--you know the Driscolls are
pretty deep in Eubaw. I happened to go out there after our little
unpleasantness at Apex, and it was just the time the deal went through.
So in one way your folks did me a good turn when they made Apex too hot
for me: funny to think of, ain't it?"
Undine, recovering herself, held out her hand impulsively.
"I'm real glad of it--I mean I'm real glad you've had such a stroke of
luck!"
"Much obliged," he returned. "By the way, you might mention the fact to
Abner E. Spragg next time you run across him."
"Father'll be real glad too, Elmer." She hesitated, and then went on:
"You must see now that it was natural father and mother should have felt
the way they did--"
"Oh, the only thing that struck me as unnatural was their making you
feel so too. But I'm free to admit I wasn't a promising case in those
days." His glance played over her for a moment. "Say, Undine--it was
good while it lasted, though, wasn't it?"
She shrank back with a burning face and eyes of misery.
"Why, what's the matter? That ruled out too? Oh, all right. Look at
here, Undine, suppose you let me know what you ARE here to talk about,
anyhow."
She cast a helpless glance down the windings of the wooded glen in which
they had halted.
"Just to ask you--to beg you--not to say anything of this kind
again--EVER--"
"Anything about you and me?"
She nodded mutely.
"Why, what's wrong? Anybody been saying anything against me?"
"Oh, no. It's not that!"
"What on earth is it, then--except that you're ashamed of me, one way
or another?" She made no answer, and he stood digging the tip of his
walking-stick into a fissure of the asphalt. At length he went on in a
tone that showed a first faint trace of irritation: "I don't want to
break into your gilt-edged crowd, if it's that you're scared of."
His tone seemed to increase her distress. "No, no--you don't understand.
All I want is that nothing shall be known."
"Yes; but WHY? It was all straight enough, if you come to that."
"It doesn't matter ... whether it was straight ... or ... not ..." He
interpolated a whistle which made her add: "What I mean is that out here
in the East they don't even like it if a girl's been ENGAGED before."
This last strain on his credulity wrung a laugh from Moffatt. "Gee!
How'd they expect her fair young life to pass? Playing 'Holy City' on
the melodeon, and knitting tidies for church fairs?"
"Girls are looked after here. It's all different. Their mothers go round
with them."
This increased her companion's hilarity and he glanced about him with a
pretense of compunction. "Excuse ME! I ought to have remembered. Where's
your chaperon, Miss Spragg?" He crooked his arm with mock ceremony.
"Allow me to escort you to the bew-fay. You see I'm onto the New York
style myself."
A sigh of discouragement escaped her. "Elmer--if you really believe I
never wanted to act mean to you, don't you act mean to me now!"
"Act mean?" He grew serious again and moved nearer to her. "What is it
you want, Undine? Why can't you say it right out?"
"What I told you. I don't want Ralph Marvell--or any of them--to know
anything. If any of his folks found out, they'd never let him marry
me--never! And he wouldn't want to: he'd be so horrified. And it would
KILL me, Elmer--it would just kill me!"
She pressed close to him, forgetful of her new reserves and repugnances,
and impelled by the passionate absorbing desire to wring from him some
definite pledge of safety.
"Oh, Elmer, if you ever liked me, help me now, and I'll help you if I
get the chance!"
He had recovered his coolness as hers forsook her, and stood his ground
steadily, though her entreating hands, her glowing face, were near
enough to have shaken less sturdy nerves.
"That so, Puss? You just ask me to pass the sponge over Elmer Moffatt of
Apex City? Cut the gentleman when we meet? That the size of it?"
"Oh, Elmer, it's my first chance--I can't lose it!" she broke out,
sobbing.
"Nonsense, child! Of course you shan't. Here, look up. Undine--why, I
never saw you cry before. Don't you be afraid of me--_I_ ain't going to
interrupt the wedding march." He began to whistle a bar of Lohengrin. "I
only just want one little promise in return."
She threw a startled look at him and he added reassuringly: "Oh, don't
mistake me. I don't want to butt into your set--not for social purposes,
anyhow; but if ever it should come handy to know any of 'em in a
business way, would you fix it up for me--AFTER YOU'RE MARRIED?'"
Their eyes met, and she remained silent for a tremulous moment or two;
then she held out her hand. "Afterward--yes. I promise. And YOU promise,
Elmer?"
"Oh, to have and to hold!" he sang out, swinging about to follow her as
she hurriedly began to retrace her steps.
The March twilight had fallen, and the Stentorian facade was all aglow,
when Undine regained its monumental threshold. She slipped through the
marble vestibule and soared skyward in the mirror-lined lift, hardly
conscious of the direction she was taking. What she wanted was solitude,
and the time to put some order into her thoughts; and she hoped to steal
into her room without meeting her mother. Through her thick veil the
clusters of lights in the Spragg drawing-room dilated and flowed
together in a yellow blur, from which, as she entered, a figure detached
itself; and with a start of annoyance she saw Ralph Marvell rise from
the perusal of the "fiction number" of a magazine which had replaced
"The Hound of the Baskervilles" on the onyx table.
"Yes; you told me not to come--and here I am." He lifted her hand to his
lips as his eyes tried to find hers through the veil.