That afternoon MacBirney played golf with Charles Kimberly. Toward five
o'clock, Alice in one of the De Castro cars drove around to The
Hickories after him. When he came in, she was sitting on the porch with
a group of women, among them Fritzie Venable and Lottie Nelson.
"I must be very displeasing to Mrs. Nelson," Alice said to her husband
as they drove away. "It upsets me completely to meet that woman."
"Why, what's the matter with _her_?" asked MacBirney, in a tone which
professing friendly surprise really implied that the grievance might
after all be one of imagination.
"I haven't an idea," declared Alice a little resentfully. "I am not
conscious of having done a thing to offend her."
"You are oversensitive."
"But, Walter, I can tell when people mean to be rude."
"What did Mrs. Nelson do that was rude?" asked her husband in his
customary vein of scepticism.
"She never does anything beyond ignoring me," returned Alice. "It must
be, I think, that she and I instinctively detest each other. They were
talking about a dinner and musicale Thursday night that Mr. Robert
Kimberly is giving at The Towers. Miss Venable said she supposed we
were going, and I had to say I really didn't know. We haven't been
asked, have we?"
"Not that I know of."
"Mrs. Nelson looked at me when Fritzie spoke; I think it is the first
time that she ever has looked at me, except when she had to say
'good-morning' or 'good-evening.' I was confused a little when I
answered, I suppose; at any rate, she enjoyed it. Mr. Kimberly would
not leave us out, would he?"
"I don't think so. He was playing golf this afternoon with Cready
Hamilton, and he stopped to offer me his yacht for the week of the cup
races."
"Why, how delightful! How came he ever to do that?"
"And I think he has made up his mind what he is going to do about
placing me on the board," continued MacBirney, resuming his hard, thin
manner and his eager tone of business. "I wish I knew just what is
coming."
Alice had scarcely reached her room when she found the dinner
invitation. She felt a little thrill of triumph as she read it. Her
maid explained that the note had been laid in the morning with Mrs. De
Castro's letters.
Late in the evening Kimberly came over with his sister-in-law, Imogene.
The De Castros were at the seashore overnight and the visitors' cards
were sent up to the MacBirneys. It was warm and the party sat on the
south veranda. Kimberly talked with Alice and she told him they hoped to
be present at his dinner.
"You are sure to be, aren't you?" he asked. "The evening is given for
you."
"For us?"
"No, not for 'us,' but for you," he said distinctly. "Mr. MacBirney has
said he is fond of the water--you like music; and I am trying something
for each of you. I should have asked you about your engagements before
the cards went out. If there is any conflict the date can easily be
recalled."
"Oh, no. That would be a pity."
"Not at all. I change my arrangements when necessary every ten
minutes."
"But there isn't any conflict, and I shall be delighted to come. Pray,
how do you know I like music?"
"I heard you say so once to Arthur De Castro. Tell me what you are
amused about?"
"Have I betrayed any amusement?"
"For just about the hundredth part of a second, in your eyes."
They were looking at each other and his gaze though within restraint was
undeniably alive. Alice knew not whether she could quite ignore it or
whether her eyes would drop in an annoying admission of
self-consciousness. She avoided the latter by confessing. "I am sure I
don't know at all what you are talking about----"
"I am sure you do, but you are privileged not to tell if you don't want
to."
"Then--our dinner card was mislaid and until to-night we didn't know
whether----"
"There was going to be any dinner."
"Oh, I knew that. I was at the Casino this afternoon----"
"I saw you."
"And when I was asked whether I was going to the dinner at The Towers I
couldn't, of course, say."
"Who asked you, Mrs. Nelson?"
"No, indeed. What made you think it was she?"
"Because she asked me if you were to be there. When I said you were, she
laughed in such a way I grew suspicious. I thought, perhaps, for some
reason you could not come, and now _I_ am confessing--I ran over
to-night expressly to find out."
"How ridiculous!"
"Rather ridiculous of me not to know before-hand."
"I don't mean that--just queer little complications."
"A mislaid dinner-card might be answerable for more than that."
"It was Miss Venable who asked, quite innocently. And had I known all I
know now, I could have taken a chance, perhaps, and said yes."
"You would have been taking no chance where my hospitality is
concerned."
"Thank you, Mr. Kimberly, for my husband and myself."
"And you might have added in this instance that if you did not go there
would be no dinner."
Alice concealed an embarrassment under a little laugh. "My husband told
me of your kindness in placing your yacht at our disposal for the
races."
"At his disposal."
"Oh, wasn't I included in that?"
"Certainly, if you would like to be. But tastes differ, and you and Mr.
MacBirney being two----"
"Oh, no, Mr. Kimberly; my husband and I are one."
"--and possibly of different tastes," continued Kimberly, "I thought
only of him. I hope it wasn't ungracious, but some women, you know,
hate the water. And I had no means of knowing whether you liked it. If
you do----"
"And you are not going to the races, yourself?"
"If you do, I shall know better the next time how to arrange."
"And you are not going to the races?"
"Probably not. Do you like the water?"
"To be quite frank, I don't know."
"How so?"
"I like the ocean immensely, but I don't know how good a sailor I should
be on a yacht."
Imogene was ready to go home. Kimberly rose. "I understand," he said,
in the frank and reassuring manner that was convincing because quite
natural. "We will try you some time, up the coast," he suggested,
extending his hand. "Good-night, Mrs. MacBirney."
"I believe Kimberly is coming to our side," declared MacBirney after he
had gone upstairs with Alice.
Annie had been dismissed and Alice was braiding her hair. "I hope so; I
begin to feel like a conspirator."
MacBirney was in high spirits. "You don't look like one. You look just
now like Marguerite." He put his hands around her shoulders, and
bending over her chair, kissed her. The caress left her cold.
"Poor Marguerite," she said softly.
"When is the dinner to be?"
"A week from Thursday. Mr. Kimberly says the yacht is for you, but the
dinner is for me," continued Alice as she lifted her eyes toward her
husband.
"Good for you."
"He is the oddest combination," she mused with a smile, and lingering
for an instant on the adjective. "Blunt, and seemingly
kind-hearted----"
"Not kind-hearted," MacBirney echoed, incredulously. "Why, even Nelson,
and he's supposed to think the world and all of him, calls him as cold
as the grave when he _wants_ anything."
Alice stuck to her verdict. "I can't help what Nelson says; and I don't
pretend to know how Mr. Kimberly would act when he wants anything. A
kind-hearted man is kind to those he likes, and a cold-blooded man is
just the same to those he likes and those he doesn't like. There is
always something that stands between a cold-blooded man and real
consideration for those he likes--and that something is himself."
Alice was quite willing her husband should apply her words as he
pleased. She thought he had given her ample reason for her reflection
on the subject.
But MacBirney was too self-satisfied to perceive what her words meant
and too pleased with the situation to argue. "Whatever he is," he
responded, "he is the wheel-horse in this combination--everybody agrees
on that--and the friendship of these people is an asset the world over.
If we can get it and keep it, we are the gainers."
"Whatever we do," returned Alice, "don't let us trade on it. I shrink
from the very thought of being a gainer by his or any other friendship.
If we are to be friends, do let us be so through mutual likes and
interests. Mr. Kimberly would know instantly if we designed it in any
other way, I am sure. I never saw such penetrating eyes. Really, he
takes thoughts right out of my head."
MacBirney laughed in a hard way. "He might take them out of a woman's
head. I don't think he would take many out of a man's."
"He wouldn't need to, dear. A man's thought's, you know, are clearly
written on the end of his nose. I wish I knew what to wear to Mr.
Kimberly's dinner."