For more than a week Ulick hadn't seen Mona. He hadn't much missed her
in the swelter of the new passion, but after ten days passed he began
to worry. What if she were sick? Or angry? And that was an unpleasant
contingency. The worst of it was that he had no way of knowing the
truth. Milt was at the seminary and seldom wrote. Ulick didn't know
Mona's parents, not even by sight. Should he risk a call? No, anything
but calling. She would be angry with him for breaking her most rigid
rule. For some unearthly reason she had made him promise not to visit
her, not to seek to know her father and mother; above all, not to
divulge the fact of their friendship to her brother. That would be
the one unforgivable sin. Ulick had promised, though reluctantly. Why
this mystery! He was not married. He was not a criminal; far from it,
he was considered a very good catch, not only because of his family
connections and youth, but his income was a bait for ambitious mothers
with unmarried daughters. He knew all this, so he was surprised at
the little shifts and tactics of Mona. She is romantic. She is
oversexed--he summoned to his memory her deep-set, passionate eyes; and
she likes to make herself not too easy, he decided; but what in the
devil has become of her?
He went to their old trysting place in the park. He went--with Dora--to
the Casino and pumped M. Dorval. No, that amiable man hadn't seen
either Mile. Milton or her student-brother. Suppose she came in now
and found me sitting here with Dora. I shouldn't be frightened. She
is too sensible not to know the nature of the animal man. But Milt
might cut me and put an end to our friendship. I'll wager Mona would
continue to meet me. He saw Alfred Stone one afternoon and heard from
this indefatigable gossip and news-gatherer that Mrs. Milton and Mona
had gone to Hot Springs for a month. He had been to see them (he calls,
I can't, ruminated Ulick) and found Mrs. Milton not at all well. Nor
was Mona in the best of health. She was snappy and said she needed a
change. A change was good for every one, and, continued Alfred, she
gave me such a disagreeable look that I beat a retreat. Say, Ulick,
what are you up to with that young woman? She's not the Dora kind,
you know, not even the Easter kind, and she is Milt's sister. Ulick
was aghast. This busybody telling him of his moral remissness, of his
intimacy with Mona. How did he find that out? And Dora. And Easter. It
was too much for his irritable nerves.
"Mind your own business, Al, and I'll attend to mine." He turned
and walked in another direction. He fumed with anger. Dora, too! But
Stone was a visitor to every theatre and concert-hall in town. Alfred
must have seen Dora with him. What did it matter, anyhow? Dora is all
right. A hired woman, nothing more. But it was infernal impudence on
Alfred's part to drag in Mona's name, and so suddenly. What could he
know in reality? Very little. But he knew. That was the worst of it;
and there was the implication of a threat in the use of Milt's name. A
warning? That sink of all the iniquities, Alfred Stone, to preach to
him. He deserved a kicking. He was too contemptible to punch. Ulick
felt his biceps harden. And for heaven's sake why did he bring in the
name of Easter? He was certain that Alfred had been jealous from the
start about the way Easter deserted him for Ulick. His amour-propre
was scratched. He had known her first. He had taken her to the
Conservatoire, to Madame Ash, and if he missed introducing her to Lilli
Lehmann, had he not urged upon that great artiste the advisability of
developing the young singer? And there were the chances to make the
connection a profitable one for Alfred. He never forgets self, bitterly
said Ulick. He is a rotten little egotist and I wouldn't put him above
chantage, polite chantage, if you will, but plain extortion at the
end. Parasite, pimp, gambler. He recited a litany of abusive names.
If Alfred had a hint of that New Hampshire affair, God help Easter!
He would dog her like a detective. The hound. In that case the only
resort for me would be to give him a horse-whipping. Would that keep
his vile tongue in his mouth? I doubt it. But I'll take his advice.
I'll go slow. Why hasn't Mona written me?