_ In Gerty Farish's sitting-room, whither a hansom had carried the
two friends, Lily dropped into a chair with a faint sound of
laughter: it struck her as a humorous coincidence that her aunt's
legacy should so nearly represent the amount of her debt to
Trenor. The need of discharging that debt had reasserted itself
with increased urgency since her return to America, and she spoke
her first thought in saying to the anxiously hovering Gerty: "I
wonder when the legacies will be paid."
But Miss Farish could not pause over the legacies; she broke into
a larger indignation. "Oh, Lily, it's unjust; it's cruel--Grace
Stepney must FEEL she has no right to all that money!"
"Any one who knew how to please Aunt Julia has a right to her
money," Miss Bart rejoined philosophically.
"But she was devoted to you--she led every one to think--" Gerty
checked herself in evident embarrassment, and Miss Bart turned to
her with a direct look. "Gerty, be honest: this will was made
only six weeks ago. She had heard of my break with the Dorsets?"
"Every one heard, of course, that there had been some
disagreement--some misunderstanding---"
"Did she hear that Bertha turned me off the yacht?"
"Lily!"
"That was what happened, you know. She said I was trying to marry
George Dorset. She did it to make him think she was jealous.
Isn't that what she told Gwen Stepney?"
"I don't know--I don't listen to such horrors."
"I MUST listen to them--I must know where I stand." She paused,
and again sounded a faint note of derision. "Did you
notice the women? They were afraid to snub me while they thought
I was going to get the money--afterward they scuttled off as if I
had the plague." Gerty remained silent, and she continued: "I
stayed on to see what would happen. They took their cue from Gwen
Stepney and Lulu Melson--I saw them watching to see what Gwen
would do.--Gerty, I must know just what is being said of me."
"I tell you I don't listen---"
"One hears such things without listening." She rose and laid her
resolute hands on Miss Farish's shoulders. "Gerty, are people
going to cut me?"
"Your FRIENDS, Lily--how can you think it?"
"Who are one's friends at such a time? Who, but you, you poor
trustful darling? And heaven knows what YOU suspect me of!" She
kissed Gerty with a whimsical murmur. "You'd never let it make
any difference--but then you're fond of criminals, Gerty! How
about the irreclaimable ones, though? For I'm absolutely
impenitent, you know."
She drew herself up to the full height of her slender majesty,
towering like some dark angel of defiance above the troubled
Gerty, who could only falter out: "Lily, Lily--how can you laugh
about such things?"
"So as not to weep, perhaps. But no--I'm not of the tearful
order. I discovered early that crying makes my nose red, and the
knowledge has helped me through several painful episodes." She
took a restless turn about the room, and then, reseating herself,
lifted the bright mockery of her eyes to Gerty's anxious
countenance.
"I shouldn't have minded, you know, if I'd got the money--" and
at Miss Farish's protesting "Oh!" she repeated calmly: "Not a
straw, my dear; for, in the first place, they wouldn't have quite
dared to ignore me; and if they had, it wouldn't have mattered,
because I should have been independent of them. But now--!" The
irony faded from her eyes, and she bent a clouded face upon her
friend.
"How can you talk so, Lily? Of course the money ought to have
been yours, but after all that makes no difference. The important
thing---" Gerty paused, and then continued firmly: "The important
thing is that you should clear yourself--should tell your friends
the whole truth."
"The whole truth?" Miss Bart laughed. "What is truth? Where a
woman is concerned, it's the story that's easiest to believe. In
this case it's a great deal easier to believe Bertha Dorset's
story than mine, because she has a big house and an opera box,
and it's convenient to be on good terms with her."
Miss Farish still fixed her with an anxious gaze. "But what IS
your story, Lily? I don't believe any one knows it yet."
"My story?--I don't believe I know it myself. You see I never
thought of preparing a version in advance as Bertha did--and if I
had, I don't think I should take the trouble to use it now."
But Gerty continued with her quiet reasonableness: "I don't want
a version prepared in advance--but I want you to tell me exactly
what happened from the beginning."
"From the beginning?" Miss Bart gently mimicked her. "Dear Gerty,
how little imagination you good people have! Why, the beginning
was in my cradle, I suppose--in the way I was brought up, and the
things I was taught to care for. Or no--I won't blame anybody for
my faults: I'll say it was in my blood, that I got it from some
wicked pleasure-loving ancestress, who reacted against the homely
virtues of New Amsterdam, and wanted to be back at the court of
the Charleses!" And as Miss Farish continued to press her with
troubled eyes, she went on impatiently: "You asked me just now
for the truth--well, the truth about any girl is that once she's
talked about she's done for; and the more she explains her case
the worse it looks.--My good Gerty, you don't happen to have a
cigarette about you?" _