Undine stood alone on the landing outside her father's office.
Only once before had she failed to gain her end with him--and there
was a peculiar irony in the fact that Moffatt's intrusion should have
brought before her the providential result of her previous failure. Not
that she confessed to any real resemblance between the two situations.
In the present case she knew well enough what she wanted, and how to
get it. But the analogy had served her father's purpose, and Moffatt's
unlucky entrance had visibly strengthened his resistance.
The worst of it was that the obstacles in the way were real enough. Mr.
Spragg had not put her off with vague asseverations--somewhat against
her will he had forced his proofs on her, showing her how much above his
promised allowance he had contributed in the last three years to
the support of her household. Since she could not accuse herself of
extravagance--having still full faith in her gift of "managing"--she
could only conclude that it was impossible to live on what her father
and Ralph could provide; and this seemed a practical reason for desiring
her freedom. If she and Ralph parted he would of course return to his
family, and Mr. Spragg would no longer be burdened with a helpless
son-in-law. But even this argument did not move him. Undine, as soon as
she had risked Van Degen's name, found herself face to face with a code
of domestic conduct as rigid as its exponent's business principles were
elastic. Mr. Spragg did not regard divorce as intrinsically wrong or
even inexpedient; and of its social disadvantages he had never even
heard. Lots of women did it, as Undine said, and if their reasons were
adequate they were justified. If Ralph Marvell had been a drunkard or
"unfaithful" Mr. Spragg would have approved Undine's desire to divorce
him; but that it should be prompted by her inclination for another
man--and a man with a wife of his own--was as shocking to him as it
would have been to the most uncompromising of the Dagonets and Marvells.
Such things happened, as Mr. Spragg knew, but they should not happen to
any woman of his name while he had the power to prevent it; and Undine
recognized that for the moment he had that power.
As she emerged from the elevator she was surprised to see Moffatt in the
vestibule. His presence was an irritating reminder of her failure, and
she walked past him with a rapid bow; but he overtook her.
"Mrs. Marvell--I've been waiting to say a word to you."
If it had been any one else she would have passed on; but Moffatt's
voice had always a detaining power. Even now that she knew him to be
defeated and negligible, the power asserted itself, and she paused to
say: "I'm afraid I can't stop--I'm late for an engagement."
"I shan't make you much later; but if you'd rather have me call round at
your house--"
"Oh, I'm so seldom in." She turned a wondering look on him. "What is it
you wanted to say?"
"Just two words. I've got an office in this building and the shortest
way would be to come up there for a minute." As her look grew distant he
added: "I think what I've got to say is worth the trip."
His face was serious, without underlying irony: the face he wore when he
wanted to be trusted.
"Very well," she said, turning back.
Undine, glancing at her watch as she came out of Moffatt's office, saw
that he had been true to his promise of not keeping her more than ten
minutes. The fact was characteristic. Under all his incalculableness
there had always been a hard foundation of reliability: it seemed to be
a matter of choice with him whether he let one feel that solid bottom
or not. And in specific matters the same quality showed itself in an
accuracy of statement, a precision of conduct, that contrasted curiously
with his usual hyperbolic banter and his loose lounging manner. No one
could be more elusive yet no one could be firmer to the touch. Her
face had cleared and she moved more lightly as she left the building.
Moffatt's communication had not been completely clear to her, but she
understood the outline of the plan he had laid before her, and was
satisfied with the bargain they had struck. He had begun by reminding
her of her promise to introduce him to any friend of hers who might be
useful in the way of business. Over three years had passed since they
had made the pact, and Moffatt had kept loyally to his side of it. With
the lapse of time the whole matter had become less important to her,
but she wanted to prove her good faith, and when he reminded her of her
promise she at once admitted it.
"Well, then--I want you to introduce me to your husband."
Undine was surprised; but beneath her surprise she felt a quick sense of
relief. Ralph was easier to manage than so many of her friends--and it
was a mark of his present indifference to acquiesce in anything she
suggested.
"My husband? Why, what can he do for you?"
Moffatt explained at once, in the fewest words, as his way was when it
came to business. He was interested in a big "deal" which involved the
purchase of a piece of real estate held by a number of wrangling
heirs. The real-estate broker with whom Ralph Marvell was associated
represented these heirs, but Moffatt had his reasons for not approaching
him directly. And he didn't want to go to Marvell with a "business
proposition"--it would be better to be thrown with him socially as if by
accident. It was with that object that Moffatt had just appealed to Mr.
Spragg, but Mr. Spragg, as usual, had "turned him down," without even
consenting to look into the case.
"He'd rather have you miss a good thing than have it come to you through
me. I don't know what on earth he thinks it's in my power to do to
you--or ever was, for that matter," he added. "Anyhow," he went on to
explain, "the power's all on your side now; and I'll show you how little
the doing will hurt you as soon as I can have a quiet chat with
your husband." He branched off again into technicalities, nebulous
projections of capital and interest, taxes and rents, from which she
finally extracted, and clung to, the central fact that if the "deal
went through" it would mean a commission of forty thousand dollars to
Marvell's firm, of which something over a fourth would come to Ralph.
"By Jove, that's an amazing fellow!" Ralph Marvell exclaimed, turning
back into the drawing-room, a few evenings later, at the conclusion of
one of their little dinners. Undine looked up from her seat by the fire.
She had had the inspired thought of inviting Moffatt to meet Clare Van
Degen, Mrs. Fairford and Charles Bowen. It had occurred to her that
the simplest way of explaining Moffatt was to tell Ralph that she had
unexpectedly discovered an old Apex acquaintance in the protagonist of
the great Ararat Trust fight. Moffatt's defeat had not wholly divested
him of interest. As a factor in affairs he no longer inspired
apprehension, but as the man who had dared to defy Harmon B. Driscoll he
was a conspicuous and, to some minds, almost an heroic figure.
Undine remembered that Clare and Mrs. Fairford had once expressed a wish
to see this braver of the Olympians, and her suggestion that he should
be asked meet them gave Ralph evident pleasure. It was long since she
had made any conciliatory sign to his family.
Moffatt's social gifts were hardly of a kind to please the two ladies:
he would have shone more brightly in Peter Van Degen's set than in
his wife's. But neither Clare nor Mrs. Fairford had expected a man
of conventional cut, and Moffatt's loud easiness was obviously less
disturbing to them than to their hostess. Undine felt only his
crudeness, and the tacit criticism passed on it by the mere presence of
such men as her husband and Bowen; but Mrs. Fairford' seemed to enjoy
provoking him to fresh excesses of slang and hyperbole. Gradually she
drew him into talking of the Driscoll campaign, and he became recklessly
explicit. He seemed to have nothing to hold back: all the details of the
prodigious exploit poured from him with Homeric volume. Then he broke
off abruptly, thrusting his hands into his trouser-pockets and shaping
his red lips to a whistle which he checked as his glance met Undine's.
To conceal his embarrassment he leaned back in his chair, looked about
the table with complacency, and said "I don't mind if I do" to the
servant who approached to re-fill his champagne glass.
The men sat long over their cigars; but after an interval Undine called
Charles Bowen into the drawing-room to settle some question in dispute
between Clare and Mrs. Fairford, and thus gave Moffatt a chance to be
alone with her husband. Now that their guests had gone she was throbbing
with anxiety to know what had passed between the two; but when Ralph
rejoined her in the drawing-room she continued to keep her eyes on the
fire and twirl her fan listlessly.
"That's an amazing chap," Ralph repeated, looking down at her. "Where
was it you ran across him--out at Apex?"
As he leaned against the chimney-piece, lighting his cigarette, it
struck Undine that he looked less fagged and lifeless than usual, and
she felt more and more sure that something important had happened during
the moment of isolation she had contrived.
She opened and shut her fan reflectively. "Yes--years ago; father had
some business with him and brought him home to dinner one day."
"And you've never seen him since?"
She waited, as if trying to piece her recollections together. "I suppose
I must have; but all that seems so long ago," she said sighing. She had
been given, of late, to such plaintive glances toward her happy girlhood
but Ralph seemed not to notice the allusion.
"Do you know," he exclaimed after a moment, "I don't believe the
fellow's beaten yet."