"It's only her manner. You'll get used to that, when you know what she
really is."
"Oh, I hope so," answered Maude. "I'm very anxious to like her--I do like
her. But it takes me such a lot of time to get to know people."
Nancy asked us to dinner.
"I want to help Maude all I can,--if she'll let me," Nancy said.
"Why shouldn't she let you?" I asked.
"She may not like me," Nancy replied.
"Nonsense!" I exclaimed.
Nancy smiled.
"It won't be my fault, at any rate, if she doesn't," she said. "I wanted
her to meet at first just the right people your old friends and a few
others. It is hard for a woman--especially a young woman--coming among
strangers." She glanced down the table to where Maude sat talking to Ham.
"She has an air about her,--a great deal of self-possession."
I, too, had noticed this, with pride and relief. For I knew Maude had
been nervous.
"You are luckier than you deserve to be," Nancy reminded me. "But I hope
you realize that she has a mind of her own, that she will form her own
opinions of people, independently of you."
I must have betrayed the fact that I was a little startled, for the
remark came as a confirmation of what I had dimly felt.
"Of course she has," I agreed, somewhat lamely. "Every woman has, who is
worth her salt."
Nancy's smile bespoke a knowledge that seemed to transcend my own.
"You do like her?" I demanded.
"I like her very much indeed," said Nancy, a little gravely. "She's
simple, she's real, she has that which so few of us possess
nowadays--character. But--I've got to be prepared for the possibility
that she may not get along with me."
"Why not?" I demanded.
"There you are again, with your old unwillingness to analyze a situation
and face it. For heaven's sake, now that you have married her, study her.
Don't take her for granted. Can't you see that she doesn't care for the
things that amuse me, that make my life?"
"Of course, if you insist on making yourself out a hardened,
sophisticated woman--" I protested. But she shook her head.
"Her roots are deeper,--she is in touch, though she may not realize it,
with the fundamentals. She is one of those women who are race-makers."
Though somewhat perturbed, I was struck by the phrase. And I lost sight
of Nancy's generosity. She looked me full in the face.
"I wonder whether you can rise to her," she said. "If I were you, I
should try. You will be happier--far happier than if you attempt to use
her for your own ends, as a contributor to your comfort and an auxiliary
to your career. I was afraid--I confess it--that you had married an
aspiring, simpering and empty-headed provincial like that Mrs. George
Hutchins' whom I met once, and who would sell her soul to be at my table.
Well, you escaped that, and you may thank God for it. You've got a
chance, think it over.
"A chance!" I repeated, though I gathered something of her meaning.
"Think it over, said Nancy again. And she smiled.
"But--do you want me to bury myself in domesticity?" I demanded, without
grasping the significance of my words.
"You'll find her reasonable, I think. You've got a chance now, Hugh.
Don't spoil it."
She turned to Leonard Dickinson, who sat on her other side....
When we got home I tried to conceal my anxiety as to Maude's impressions
of the evening. I lit a cigarette, and remarked that the dinner had been
a success.
"Do you know what I've been wondering all evening?" Maude asked. "Why you
didn't marry Nancy instead of me."
"Well," I replied, "it just didn't come off. And Nancy was telling me at
dinner how fortunate I was to have married you."
Maude passed this.
"I can't see why she accepted Hambleton Durrett. It seems horrible that
such a woman as she is could have married--just for money.
"Nancy has an odd streak in her," I said. "But then we all have odd
streaks. She's the best friend in the world, when she is your friend."
"I'm sure of it," Maude agreed, with a little note of penitence.
"You enjoyed it," I ventured cautiously.
"Oh, yes," she agreed. "And everyone was so nice to me--for your sake of
course."
"Don't be ridiculous!" I said. "I shan't tell you what Nancy and the
others said about you."
Maude had the gift of silence.
"What a beautiful house!" she sighed presently. "I know you'll think me
silly, but so much luxury as that frightens me a little. In England, in
those places we saw, it seemed natural enough, but in America--! And they
all your friends--seem to take it as a matter of course."
"There's no reason why we shouldn't have beautiful things and well served
dinners, too, if we have the money to pay for them."
"I suppose not," she agreed, absently.