_ CHAPTER VI
Laura gasped, and opened wide her eyes. A house of her own on Riverside Drive! She had always wished for that; it had been the dream of her life. Why--it meant that independence, wealth were already hers! She need have no more gnawing anxiety about the future. The price? Well, had she not paid it already? Perhaps she had been foolish. The world is hard--one never gets the credit for trying to be decent. Who would care? Yes--one would. She saw a pair of honest gray eyes seeking hers and questioning her, demanding if she had been true to their oath--"until death!"
"A new part!" she faltered. "What kind of a part?"
A covert smile played about the broker's lips. He had noted her hesitation, and well he knew the weight of his words. He had not studied women all these years for nothing. Carelessly he went on:
"One of Charlie Burgess's shows, translated from some French fellow. It's been running over in Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and all those places for a year or more, and appears to be a tremendous hit. It's a big production, and it's going to cost a lot of money to do it here. I told Charlie he could put me down for a half-interest and I'd give all the money, provided that you got an important rôle. Great part, I'm told--just the kind of thing you've been looking for. Looks as if it might stay in New York all season. That's the change of plan. How does it strike you?"
Laura averted her face and made no reply. Going to the edge of the terrace, she leaned against the balustrade, and gazed once more into the depths below. The sun had already begun to set behind the distant mountain-tops, and the cañon was beautiful in its tints of purple and amber.
"How does it strike you?" he repeated.
"I don't know," she replied without turning her head.
He rose from his seat and strolled towards her. The good-humor had faded out of his face. The lines about his mouth were more tightly drawn. It was evident that his patience was exhausted and that he was becoming angry. But Brockton never made a scene. No matter how incensed he might be, he never lost his
sang froid or forgot his manners. Quietly he asked:
"Feel like quitting?"
"I can't tell," she replied in the same indifferent tone.
"So it's the newspaper man, eh?"
"That would be the only reason."
Turning quickly, he placed himself in a position so that he faced her. Looking her steadily in the eyes, he said slowly:
"You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you?"
She instantly noted the change in his tone. Her face grew a shade paler, but she looked up at him without flinching. Quickly she said:
"What do you mean by 'on the square'?"
"Don't evade," he exclaimed, slightly raising his voice. "There's only one meaning when I say that--and you know it. I'm pretty liberal, Laura, but you understand where I draw the line----" Sternly and more slowly he added: "You've not jumped that, have you?"
The girl tossed her head haughtily. There are some questions no one may ask or answer. She looked him straight in the face. He could read nothing there. Quietly she said:
"This has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully different summer." It was her turn to be ironical when she added: "Can you understand what I mean by that, when I say 'a wonderfully different summer'?"
The broker smiled in spite of himself.
"So--he's thirty and 'broke,' and you're twenty-five and pretty. He evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar gift of gab that we call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not blind. You both think you've fallen in love. That it?"
"Yes," replied the girl gravely. "I think that's about it, only I don't agree with the 'gift of gab' and the 'romantic' end of it. He's a man and I'm a woman, and we've both had our adventures. His are more respectable than mine, that's all." Musingly, as if to herself, she added: "I don't think, Will, that there can be much of that element which some folk describe as hallucination. We know what we're about."
Picking up from the table a box of candies which the broker had brought her, she selected one of the sugared delicacies and popped it in her mouth. Brockton walked up and down with long, nervous strides. The girl's calmness disconcerted him. With all his experience, he was at a loss how to handle her. Perhaps he might try a final shot.
"Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show offer are off, eh?" he said sharply.
Hesitatingly she answered:
"I don't say that."
"And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow," he went on bitterly, "you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow or wait until the day after you leave!"
"I didn't say that, either," she replied, replacing the candy box on the table.
He stopped short.
"What's the game?" he demanded impatiently.
"I can't tell you now."
"Waiting for him to come?"
"Exactly."
"Think he's serious, eh?"
"I know he is."
"Marriage?"
"Possibly."
He laughed ironically.
"You've tried that once," he said, "and taken the wrong end. Are you going to play the same game again?"
"Yes--but with a different card," she answered.
"What's his name?"
"Madison--John Madison."
Picking up a magazine, she slowly turned the pages.
"And his job?"
"I told you--a reporter."
The broker gave a low and expressive whistle. Sarcastically he inquired: "What are you going to live on--extra editions?"
"No, we're young, there's plenty of time," she answered calmly. "I can work in the meantime and so can he. With his ability and my ability it will only be a matter of a year or two when things will shape themselves to make it possible."
Brockton chuckled to himself.
"Sounds well--a year off."
Irritated at his facetious tone and bantering manner, the girl plainly showed her resentment. Her face flushed, and, throwing down the magazine, she went towards the door of the house. Petulantly she cried:
"If I had thought you were going to make fun of me, Will, I wouldn't have talked to you at all."
Quickly he made a step forward and intercepted her.
"I don't want to make fun of you, but you must realize that after two years it isn't exactly pleasant to be dumped with so little ceremony. Maybe you have never given me any credit for possessing the slightest feeling, but even I can receive shocks from other sources than a break in the market."
She stopped and looked at him kindly. Her voice was softened as she said:
"It isn't easy for me to do this, Will. You've been awfully kind, awfully considerate, but when I went to you it was just with the understanding that we were to be pals. You reserved the right then to quit me whenever you felt like it, and you gave me the same privilege. Now, if some girl came along who really captivated you in the right way, and you wanted to marry, it would hurt me a little--maybe a lot--but I should never forget that agreement we made, a sort of two weeks' notice clause, like people have in contracts."
The broker turned away, visibly moved. Striding up to the edge of the terrace, he stood looking down into the cañon. Laura remained where he had left her, looking after him. There followed a long silence, which at length he broke.
"I'm not hedging, Laura. If that's the way you want it to be, I'll stand by just exactly what I said." Turning and looking at her, he went on: "But I'm fond of you, a damned sight fonder than I thought I was, now that I find you slipping away; but if this young fellow is on the square----"
She approached him and slipped her hand in his. He went on:
"If he's on the square, and has youth and ability, and you've been on the square with him, why, all right. Your life hasn't had much in it to help you get a diploma from any celestial college, and if you can start out now and be a good girl, have a good husband, and maybe some day good children, why--I'm not going to stand in the way. Only, I don't want you to make any of those mistakes that you made before."
"I know," she smiled sadly, "but somehow I feel that this time the real thing has come and with it the real man. I can't tell you, Will, how much different it is, but everything I felt before seemed so sort of earthy--and somehow the love that I have for this man is so different. For the first time in my life it's made me want to be truthful and sincere and humble. The only other thing I ever had that I cared the least bit about, now that I look back, was your friendship." Impulsively throwing her arms around him, she added: "We have been good pals, haven't we?"
He smiled as he fondled her.
"Yes; it's been a mighty good two years for me. I was always proud to take you around, because I think you are one of the prettiest things in New York."
Playfully, her good spirits once more in the ascendant, she jumped into the armchair with a little girlish laugh. He went on:
"You're always jolly and you never complained. You spent a lot of money, but it was a pleasure to see you spend it, and what's more, you never offended me. Most women offend men by coming around looking untidy and sort of unkempt, but somehow you always knew the value of your beauty and you always dressed up. I always thought that maybe some day the fellow would come along, grab you, and make you happy in a nice way, but I thought that he'd have to have a lot of money. You know, you've lived a rather extravagant life for five years, Laura. It won't be an easy job to come down to cases and suffer for the little dainty necessities you've been used to."
She sat leaning forward, her chin resting on her hands, a serious, far-away expression on her face. Slowly she said:
"I've thought all about that, and I think I understand."
"You know how it is," he went on. "If you were working without anybody's help, you might have a hard time getting an engagement. As an actress, you're only fair."
Laura toyed impatiently with her parasol.
"You needn't remind me of that," she said testily. "That part of my life is my own. I don't want you to start now and make it harder for me to do the right thing. It isn't fair; it isn't square, and it isn't right. You've got to let me go my own way." Putting her hand on the broker's shoulder, she went on: "I'm sorry to leave you, Will, in a way, but I want you to know that if I go with John it changes the spelling of the word 'comradeship' into 'love,' and the word 'mistress' into 'wife.' Now, please don't talk any more."
"Just a word," he interrupted. "Is it absolutely settled?"
"I told you I didn't know exactly what our plans are," she answered impatiently. "I shall know to-day--that's what I'm waiting for. I can't understand why he doesn't come."
The broker, whose gaze had been idly sweeping the cañon, suddenly sat up and pointed up the pass.
"Is that the fellow, coming up here?" he exclaimed.
Laura rose quickly from her seat, and, running to the balustrade, peered over.
"Where?" she asked.
"Up the road there," said Brockton, pointing. "Don't you see the man on that yellow horse?"
She looked a moment, straining her eyes.
"Yes--that's John!" Waving her handkerchief and putting one hand to her mouth, she cried out: "Hello!"
From the distance came the sound of a man's voice:
"Hello yourself!"
"Hurry up, you're late!" cried Laura, her face now flushed from pleasure and excitement.
"Better late than never," came the rejoinder.
"Hurry up," she repeated.
"Not with this horse," was the answer.
Laura turned to Brockton, her face beaming. Enthusiastically she exclaimed:
"Now, Will, does he look like a yellow reporter?"
The broker's face broke into a rather uncomfortable smile.
"He
is a good-looking chap."
The girl leaned far over the balustrade to watch her lover's progress.
"Oh, he's just simply more than that!" Turning quickly to the broker, she asked: "Where's Mrs. Williams?"
He pointed indoors.
"She was in there playing bridge when I came out."
Going hurriedly to the door leading into the house, Laura called out:
"Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. Williams!"
"What is it, my dear?" replied her hostess from within.
"Mr. Madison is coming up the path."
"That's good," came the reply. "He's just in time for dinner."
"Won't you come out and see him?"
"No, my child. I'm up to my neck in bridge. I'm six dollars and twenty cents out now, and up against an awful streak of luck."
"Shall I invite him to dinner?"
"Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his fingers when he thinks of me."
The girl ran back to Brockton, who was still standing at the edge of the terrace, watching the rider's progress. Slipping her hand involuntarily through the broker's arm and looking eagerly with him over the balustrade, she asked with girlish enthusiasm:
"Do you like him?"
"I don't know him," replied Brockton with an amused smile.
"Well, do you think you'll like him?" she persisted.
"I hope I'll like him," he answered reservedly.
"Well, if you hope you'll like him, you ought to think you'll like him. He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute, and then you can see him. Do you want to see him?"
"Why, yes--do you?" he replied, amused at her girlish enthusiasm.
"Do I?" she echoed. "Why, I haven't seen him since last night. There he is!" Waving her hand wildly, she cried out: "Hello, John!"
The rider was now close at hand, for Madison's voice was heard in all the fullness of its rich, deep tones:
"Hello, girlie! How's everything?"
"Fine!" she called back. "Do hurry."
"Tell that to this horse, will you? The word 'hurry' is not in his dictionary."
"I'm coming down to meet you," she called again.
"All right!" came the answer.
Turning quickly to Brockton, like a spoilt child, pleading for a favor, she said demurely:
"You don't care. You'll wait, won't you?"
"Sure," replied the broker laconically.
The girl ran nimbly down the stairs of the terrace, and disappeared among the cactus bushes. _