Madeleine went to Mrs. Abbott's reception, but there was nothing
conciliatory nor apologetic in her mien. She had intended to be merely
natural, but when she met that battery of eyes, amused, mocking,
sympathetic, encouraging, and realized that Mrs. Abbott's tongue had
been wagging, she was filled with an anger and resentment that
expressed itself in a cold pride of bearing and a militant sparkle of
the eye. She was gracious and aloof and Mrs. McLane approved her
audibly.
"Exactly as I should feel and look myself," she said to Mrs. Ballinger
and Guadalupe Hathaway. "She's a royal creature and she has moved in
the great world. No wonder she resents the petty gossip of this
village."
"Well, I'll acquit her," said Mrs. Ballinger tartly. "A more
cold-blooded and unattractive man I've never met."
"Langdon Masters is by no means unattractive," announced Miss Hathaway
out of her ten years' experience as a belle and an unconscionable
flirt. "I have sat in the conservatory with him several times. It may
be that Mrs. Abbott stepped in before it was too late. And it may be
that she did not."
"Oh, call no woman virtuous until she is dead," said Mrs. McLane
lightly. "But I won't hear another insinuation against Madeleine
Talbot."
Mrs. Abbott kissed the singed brand it had been her mission to snatch
in the nick of time and detained her in conversation with unusual
empressement. Madeleine responded with an excessive politeness, and
Mrs. Abbott learned for the first time that sweet brown eyes could
glitter as coldly as her own protuberant orbs when pronouncing judgment.
Madeleine remained for two hours, bored and disgusted, the more as
Masters' name was ostentatiously avoided. Even Sally Ballinger, who
kissed her warmly, told her that she looked as if she hadn't a care in
the world and that it was because she had too much sense to bother
about men!
She had never been treated with more friendly intimacy, and if she went
home with a headache it was at least a satisfaction to know that her
proud position was still scandal-proof.
She wisely modified her first program and drifted back into afternoon
society by degrees; a plan of defensive campaign highly approved by
Mrs. McLane, who detested lack of finesse. The winter was an
unsatisfactory one for Madeleine altogether. Society would not have
bored her so much perhaps if that secret enchanting background had
remained intact. But her intercourse with Masters was necessarily
sporadic. Her conscience had never troubled her for receiving his
visits, for her husband not only had expressed his approval, but had
always urged her to amuse herself with men. But she felt like an
intriguante when she discussed her engagement lists with Masters, and
she knew that he liked it as little. His visits were now a matter for
"sandwiching," to be schemed and planned for, and she dared not ask
herself whether the persistent sense of fear that haunted her was that
they both must betray self-consciousness in time, or that the more
difficult order would bore him: their earlier intimacy had coincided
with his hours of leisure. After all, he was not her lover, to delight
in intrigue; and in time, it might be, he would not think the game
worth the candle. She dreaded that revived gossip might drive him from
the hotel, and that would be the miserable beginning of an unthinkable
end.
There were other interruptions. He paid a flying visit to Richmond to
visit the death-bed of his mother, and he took a trip to the Sandwich
Islands to recover from a severe cold on the chest. Moreover, his
former placidity had left him, for one thing and another delayed the
financing of his newspaper. One of its founders was temporarily
embarrassed for ready money, another awaited an opportune moment to
realize on some valuable stock. There was no doubt that the entire
amount would be forthcoming in time, but meanwhile he fumed, and
expressed himself freely to Madeleine. That he might have a more
poisonous source of irritation did not occur to her.
Fortunately she did not suspect that gossip was still rife. Madeleine
might have a subtle mind but she had a candid personality. It was quite
patent to sharp eyes that she was unhappy once more, although this time
her health was unaffected. And Society was quite aware that she still
saw Langdon Masters, in spite of her perfunctory appearances; for
suspicion once roused develops antennae that traverse space without
effort and return with accumulated minute stores of evidence. Masters
had been seen entering or leaving the Talbot parlor by luncheon guests
in the hotel. Old Ben Travers, who had chosen to ignore his astonishing
and humiliating experience and always treated Madeleine with
exaggerated deference, called one afternoon on her (in company with
Mrs. Ballinger) and observed cigarette ends in the ash tray. Talbot
smoked only cigars. Masters was one of the few men in San Francisco who
smoked cigarettes and there was no mistaking his imported brand. Mr.
Travers paid an immediate round of visits, and called again a fortnight
later, this time protected by Mrs. Abbott. There were several books on
the table which he happened to know Masters had received within the
week.
When the new wave reached Mrs. McLane she announced angrily that all
the gossip in San Francisco originated in the Union Club, and refused
to listen to details. But she was anxious, nevertheless, for she knew
that Madeleine, whether she recognized the fact or not, was in love
with Langdon Masters, and she more than suspected that he was with her.
He went little into society, even before his mother's death, pleading
press of work, but Mr. McLane often brought him home quietly to dinner
and she saw more of him than any one did but Madeleine. Men had gone
mad over her in her own time and she knew the stamp of baffled passions.
It was on New Year's Day, during Masters' absence in Richmond, that an
incident occurred which turned Society's attention, diverted for the
moment by an open divorce scandal, to Madeleine Talbot once more.