"Courtney!" And her horrified eyes told Courtney she had caught the
intended hint that Basil was in love with some married woman. "It isn't
possible!"
"Haven't such things happened?"
"Yes--but-- No married woman a nice man would notice would ever think
of another man than her husband."
"I don't know about a 'nice' woman," said Courtney, slowly. "But I can
imagine that a _human_ woman--if her husband neglected her, and chilled
and killed her love----"
Helen was not listening, was not aware that she had interrupted as she
said, "Do you think Mr. Gallatin could be in love with some married
woman--of--of our class?"
"I suspect so," replied Courtney, gazing calmly into her eyes.
"I'll not believe it!" cried Helen. "I'll not believe it!"
"You're like all girls. Because your own head's full of marriage, you
think every man who's polite to you, or flirts a little to make the time
pass more agreeably, is about to send for the preacher. Now, frankly,
has Basil ever made love to you?"
"No," admitted Helen. "But--" She halted.
"But what?" came from Courtney sharp and arresting as a shot.
"I _feel_ he is fond of me," confessed Helen.
Courtney laughed harshly. "All men are fond of all good-looking
women--especially in the spring. Don't be a fool, Helen."
"But a married woman has no right to him!"
Courtney flushed, and her eyes flashed. "And how do you know? And what
right have you to judge? Are you God?"
"No, but----"
"No!" cried Courtney. "How do you know what he--his love may mean to
her? How do you know but what it may be the one thing between her and
despair and ruin? You, with your timid, proper calculating little love!
Why, if the woman cared enough for him--needed him so--that she
sacrificed self-respect--honor--truth--all--all--for love--what could
you give him to replace it? And what are your needs beside hers?"
Helen's face grew hard as these words that outraged every principle of
her training poured recklessly from Courtney's lips. "I'm astounded at
your defending a bad woman," she said. "You're _too_ generous,
Courtney. You'd feel differently if she were taking Richard away from
you. But, I'm not in love with Basil. I see you know things about him.
I--I--despise him. I pity him, of course, for he might have been a nice
man. But I couldn't love him. I'm glad you told me. I might have
engaged myself to him."
Courtney's far from sane eyes twinkled at that last ingenuous bit of
maidenly vanity. Helen went about her work, and she departed to the
greenhouse. "She'll stop loving him as easily as she began," said she
to herself. "What does her sort of women know about love? They're
faithful to whatever man they marry, as a dog's faithful to whoever
feeds and kennels it.... Basil Gallatin is mine! And no man--nor no
woman--shall come between us."
She had not forgotten Basil's expression as he stood in the apartment
entrance, after his _tete-a-tete_ with Helen. "Now--for what's in _his_
heart," she said. "I must know just where I stand." She recalled how
she had used to say, and to think, that if a man was not freely a
woman's--freely--inevitably--without any need of being held by feminine
artifice--no self-respecting woman could for an instant wish to detain
him. And here she was, ready to make any sacrifice to hold this man.
Truly, fate seemed determined to compel her to give the lie to
everything she had ever believed, to abase every instinct of pride that
had plumed or still plumed the haughty front of her soul.
Richard asked Helen up to his study after supper, to take dictation of
an article he was doing for a scientific magazine; thus, Courtney had a
chance to explore Basil. She was seated beneath the tall lamp, a big hat
frame on her lap, ribbon and feathers on the small table. She knew he
was watching her over the top of a newspaper; and she was not insensible
to his extremely flattering expression--nor, perhaps, to the advantages
her occupation gave her in the way of graceful gestures, effective
posings of the head and arms as she studied the effect of different
arrangements of ribbon and feathers. She glanced directly at him; he
glanced away, confused--the frightened zigzag of a flushed partridge.
"Well?" said she. She felt more lenient toward him, now that she had
discovered his innocence of overt treachery, at least; and the way he
was looking at her when he fancied her quite unaware was certainly
reassuring. Also, she realized now that she herself was largely
responsible for these errant springtime thoughts of his--she with her
struggling to keep both love and self-respect. "Well?" she repeated,
when he did not speak. "What guilty thought did I almost surprise?"
"No guilty thought," replied he. "I was loving you--terribly--just
then. I was thinking--how impossible it would be for a man who loved
you ever to wander."
"That's very nice," said she, with a mocking smile. "So you have
been--looking over the fence?" And she went on with bending the brim of
the hat frame to a more graceful curve. She was placid to all
appearances; but once more the great dread was obsessing her.
"Not at all," protested he. "What fence? At whom?"
"The fence of our compact--perhaps."
He sighed impatiently.
"Ah--well--" She laughed, eying the result of her shaping, the hat
frame at one angle, her head at the opposite angle--"there's Helen."
He looked grave reproach at her, altogether absorbed in trying a long
plume against the frame in different positions. "Do you think, dear,
it's quite respectful to Helen----"
"Your thoughts couldn't harm her," interrupted she--that is, she
interrupted him, but not her work. "If men's thoughts smirched women,
what an unsightly lot the attractive ones would be!"
"Where did you get such ideas?" he exclaimed, trying to conceal how her
frankness had scandalized him.
She worked on calmly. "By observing and reading and thinking--and
feeling."
He drummed uneasily upon the arm of his chair with the tips of his
fingers. At length he said with some embarrassment, "It's hardly
necessary for me to say that I have the highest respect for Helen."
"Yes--and I also know she's very--very pretty."
"Yes, she is pretty."
"You respect her. You like to talk with her. You think she is
physically attractive."