People, people--give me people and the clash of tongues and the sense of movement.I don't much care who they are.I shall pick up all the little snobbish stuff sooner or later, of course, and talk about the right set and all that, as you do.I'm bound to.At present everything's new and exciting, and I'm whipping it up.You wait a little.I'll cut out some of the dull and pompous when I've got things going, and limit myself to red-blooded speed-breakers.
Give me time, Alice."
She sat down at the piano and crashed out a fox-trot that was all over town.No one would have imagined from her freshness and vivacity that she had been dancing until daylight every night that week.
"Well," said Alice when she could be heard, "I see you ****** history, my dear; there's no doubt about that.""None whatever," answered Joan."I'm outside the walls at last, and I'll go the pace until the ambulance comes.""With or without Martin Gray?"
"With, if he's quick enough--without, if not.""Be careful," said Alice.
"Not I, my dear.I left care away back in the country with my little old frocks."Alice held out her hand."You bewilder me a little," she said."You make me feel as if I were in a high wind.You did when we were at school, I remember.Well, don't bother to thank me for having got up this party." She added this a little dryly.
With a most winning smile Joan kissed her."You're a good pal, Alice," she said, "and I'm very grateful."Alice was compensated, although her shrewd knowledge of character told her how easily her friend won her points."And I hope you're duly grateful to Martin Gray?""To dear old Marty? Rather! He and I are great pals."But that was all Alice got.Her burning curiosity to know precisely how this young couple stood must go unsatisfied for the time being.
She had only caught a few fleeting glimpses of the man who had given Joan the key to life, and every time had wondered, from something in his eyes, whether he found things wholly good.She was just a little suspicious of romances.Her own had worn thin so quickly."Good-by, my dear," she said."Don't forget you're dining with me to-morrow.""Not likely."
"What are you doing to-night?"
"Going to bed at nine o'clock to sleep the clock round.I'm awfully tired."She stood quite still for many minutes after Alice had gone, and shut her eyes.In a quick series of moving pictures she saw thousands of little lights and swaying people and clashing colors, and caught snatches of lilting music and laughter.She was tired, and something that seemed like a hand pressed her forehead tightly, but the near-by sound of incessant traffic sent her blood spinning, and she opened her eyes and gave a little laugh and went out.
Martin was on his way downstairs.He drew up abruptly."Oh, hello!"he said.
"Oh, hello!" said Joan.
He was in evening clothes.His face had lost its tan and his eyes their clear country early-to-bed look."You've had a tea-fight, Isee.I peered into the drawing-room an hour ago and backed out, quick.""Why? They were all consumed with curiosity about you.Alice has advertised our romantic story, you see." She clasped her hands together and adopted a pose in caricature of the play heroine in an ecstasy of egomania.
But Martin's laugh was short and hollow.He wasn't amused."How did you get on?" he asked.
"Lost seventy dollars--that's all.Three-handed bridge with Grandfather and Grandmother was not a good apprenticeship.I must have a few lessons.D'you like my frock? Come up.You can't see it from there."And he came up and looked at her as she turned this way and that.
How slim she was, and alluring! The fire in him flamed up, and his eyes flickered."Awful nice!" he said.
"You really like it?"
"Yes, really.You look beyond criticism in anything, always."Joan stretched out her hand."Thank you, Marty," she said."You say and do the most charming things that have ever been said and done."He bent over the long-fingered hand.His pride begged him not to let her see the hunger and pain that were in his eyes.
"Going out?" she asked.
Martin gave a careless glance at one of B.C.Koekkoek's inimitable Dutch interiors that hung between two pieces of Flemish tapestry.
His voice showed some of his eagerness, though."I was going to have dinner with some men at the University Club, but I can chuck that and take you to the Biltmore or somewhere else if you like."Joan shook her head."Not to-night, Marty.I'm going to bed early, for a change.""Aren't you going to give me one evening, then?" His question was apparently as casual as his attitude.He stood with his hands in his pockets and his legs wide apart and his teeth showing.He might have been talking to a sister.
"Oh, lots, presently.I'm so tired to-night, old boy."He would have given Parnassus for a different answer."All right then," he said."So long.""So long, Marty! Don't be too late." She nodded and smiled and went upstairs.
And he nodded and smiled and went down--to the mental depths."What am I to do?" he asked himself."What am I to do?" And he put his arms into the coat that was held out and took his hat.In the street the soft April light was fading, and the scent of spring was blown to him from the Park.He turned into Fifth Avenue in company with a horde of questions that he couldn't shake off.He couldn't believe that any of all this was true.Was there no one in all this world of people who would help him and give him a few words of advice? "Oh, Father," he said from the bottom of his heart, "dear old Father, where are you?"The telephone bell was ringing as Joan went into her room.Gilbert Palgrave spoke--lightly and fluently and with easy words of flattery.
She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs and put the instrument on her knee."You read all that in a book," she said."I'm tired.Yesterday and the night before...No...No..
.All right, then.Fetch me in an hour." She put the receiver back.
"Why not?" she said to herself, ringing for her maid."Bed's for old people.Thank God, I sha'n't be old for a century."She presented her back to the deft-fingered girl and yawned.But the near-by clatter of traffic sounded in her ears.
