The door opened. Dick came in.
"Well, everybody's gone," he said. Then he turned to Lola.
"Bill's waiting to drive you home. I'll take you downstairs."
Dick's voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't say a word to him. He's
sore as a pup!"
Gloria listened to Lola and Dick go downstairs together.
Then, in a little while, she heard Bill's voice calling to her from
the lower hall.
"Nighty-night, Gloria!" he bawled at the top of his lungs. "Sorry
Lola crabbed your party!"
Gloria laughed.
"She didn't crab it ... everybody ought to have a hot time at a
housewarming, anyway!" she called. "Good night, old timer! ... Good
night, Lola!"
... Then she heard the sound of Bill's wheezy old car backing out of
the driveway. "Asthma," Bill called his car.
What a nice old thing Bill was in spite of his drinking and his
card-playing!
After all, it was probably Lola's fault that he acted the way he did!
... A pretty woman who knew how to "vamp" a man could make him do
anything under the sun that she wanted him to do! ... But Lola had
lost all interest in "vamping" Bill or looking pretty for him ... So
of course she had lost him!
No man wanted to sit around a house alone while his wife spent every
minute bathing and feeding and rocking three children, either!
... What a poor simp Lola was!
Half asleep, Gloria went on thinking....
Stan Wayburn's good-looking face floated into her mind. She wondered
if Stan had kissed Myra Gail to give her a "thrill" ... or because he
had wanted to kiss her...
Myra wasn't so awfully alluring. But she had a way with her, at
that! And she knew a lot about books and plays and things....
Gloria fell asleep.
She was awakened by Dick's voice.
"Gloria! Wake up!" he was saying. "Maggie's having a brainstorm
down in the kitchen.... Says she's going back to Mother's house
to-night. Have you said anything to hurt her feelings? ... If you
have, for the love of Mike, go down and beg her pardon.... Gloria!
Gloria!"
He shook her again. But Gloria was fairly drugged with sleep and
alcohol.
Dick shook her again. She opened her topaz eyes.
"What in the world are you screeching about? Leave me alone!" she
said crossly.
Dick lifted her out of bed and set her on the rug in her bare feet.
"Put on your slippers and kimono and run down to Maggie," he said.
"She's going home to-night, she says.... If you want a maid, you'd
better go and stop her!"
Gloria went downstairs.
In the kitchen Maggie was strapping a bulging suitcase. She had put
on her hat. Her coat was thrown over a chair.
"Now where do you think you're going in the middle of the night?"
Gloria asked.
Maggie glared at her.
"That's my business!" she snapped. "But I can tell you one thing,
Mrs. Gregory! ... I'll not be stopping another night in a house like
this! Women drinking and smoking and carrying on right in front of
my eyes.... Look at yourself! Hardly able to stand!"
It was true that Gloria could hardly stand. She was still faint and
dizzy. She leaned against the cold stove.
"I've always worked for decent people ... and been decent, myself!"
Maggie went on. "I've kept myself to myself for forty-five years,
and no cheap actor is going to chuck me under the chin, my lady! Let
me tell you that!"
"Who chucked you under the chin?" Gloria asked sweetly.
"Oh, that actor ... that Mr. Smart Aleck, the one you call 'Stan,'"
Maggie answered. She tossed her head.
"Oh, Maggie, it must have been accidental! I'm sure he didn't mean
to do it!" Gloria said. She laughed in spite of herself. The
thought of Stan Wayburn chucking the elderly Maggie under her fat
chin was too funny!
"Well, anyway, I'm going ... and I'm going to-night!" Maggie declared.
She began to put on her coat.
"Oh, Maggie, you wouldn't leave me to clean up this mess of a house
all alone, would you?" Gloria was on the verge of tears.
The kitchen table was filled with sticky glasses. The sink was piled
high with plates waiting to be washed. Some salad dressing was
splashed against the wall....
And Gloria knew that the rest of the house was littered with
cigarette ashes and stubs, with wilted flower petals, and all the
rest of the sordid souvenirs of a "wild" party.
"I'm sure it's not my fault that the house is a mess! It was as neat
as a new pin this afternoon ... and should be, now," Maggie said in
her most dignified manner. "Mr. Dick's mother gives dinner parties,
but her house never looks like this when they're over, let me tell
you! ... She knows how to entertain!"
Maggie picked up her coat, hat and traveling bag just as Dick came
into the kitchen.
"Wait a minute, Maggie," he said, quietly attempting to take the bag
from her hand.
"No, Mr. Dick," replied Maggie, trying to pull away from him. "I am
going. I will not stay in this house another night."
"If you've really made up your mind to go back to Mother's house I'll
drive you over," Dick said. "You can't go walking around the town at
this hour of night alone."
He started to go back into the hall for his hat and coat.
But Gloria barred his way. She threw her arms across the door.
"Dick Gregory, you must be crazy!" she said. "Here's this woman
leaving me at a moment's notice--and you actually upholding her in
what she's doing to me!"
Dick stooped and kissed his angry little wife. Then he gently pushed
her out of his way.
"Run upstairs, Littlest!" he said quietly. "Don't be afraid here by
yourself.... I'll be back in ten minutes."
Cold with anger, Gloria climbed the stairs through the silent house.
She heard the hum of Dick's roadster as it swung down the street.
The clock in the hall downstairs began to chime ... one, two, three,
four!
Four o'clock! In another four hours Dick would be wanting his
breakfast. And no Maggie here to get it for him!
... Well, let him go without breakfast! It would serve him right!
He had been so ready to take Maggie back to his mother's house ...
let him see how he liked getting along without her!
For Gloria had made up her mind she would not get breakfast.
She would not sweep and dust.
She certainly would not wash greasy dishes....
In a word, she would not work!
"If I ever start drudging around the house, I'll have my mother's
life all over again.... And I'd rather be dead!" she told herself.
She looked at her pink-tipped hands with their shiny nails. Then she
thought of her mother's. How rough and calloused they were! ... No,
she would never have hands like Mother's ... never!
She climbed into her soft bed that smelled of lavender flowers.
Maggie had made lavender bags for the linen closet....
Gloria turned on the reading lamp. Then from a drawer in her bedside
table she took several small bottles and jars.
She dipped a wad of cotton into almond oil, and wiped all the powder
from her skin with it. With another wad she patted her face lightly
with witch hazel.
Then she rubbed muscle oil under her eyes and around her mouth ...
the places where lines first begin to show themselves. Her skin was
as soft as a fresh-laundered baby's.
After that she turned out her light. And slept like a baby.
When Dick returned every light in the house was blazing.
He went around from room to room snapping them out.
The house reeked with the smell of stale tobacco smoke and gin.
Dick threw open a window in the sunroom and let in the clean, cold
night air.
Then he went upstairs....
He stood for a long time looking down at his sleeping wife.
Her dark lashes lay in a shadow on her cheeks. Her mouth was like a
scarlet flower against that warm white skin of hers.
She looked as pure as some old Italian master's picture of an angel!
... How had she happened to ask that fellow Wayburn to the
housewarming Dick wondered for the hundredth time.
... How well did she know him?
... And was it really Wayburn whom Dick had seen leaving his house a
few days ago? ... Or had Gloria told the truth when she said that the
man was an interior decorator?
These questions went 'round and 'round in Dick's tired brain like
squirrels in a cage....
He made up his mind to ask Gloria about Wayburn again in the morning.
And this time he would not let her put him off!
No matter what the truth was, he would have it, by Jove!