CHAPTER XIII
THE QUARREL
ELLEN West had quickly recovered from her mood of jealous rivalry. She tried to make up for the ugly thought by unusual tenderness toward Manning.
“I’m glad! Of course I am,” she repeated. “I want him to be the biggest force in New York’s intellectual life--to climb to the very top, and I’ll help him do it!”
In spite of her generous resolutions and stern adherence to them the hurt was there. Deep down she found it festering. It was unreasonable that a boy with only two years’ experience in New York should leap suddenly ahead of her at a single bound. It was unfair. It was part of the old régime of the dual standard of morals and the dual standard of unequal pay for equal work. The revolution she was leading would also right this wrong.
And yet when she faced the truth she knew that her salary was as large as the position could pay. A magazine of revolutionary ideas could not command millions of readers. The moment it could do so, its work would be done. The man who could hold down the job of city editor of a great morning daily was worth ten thousand a year to the enterprise. There was nothing unfair or unreasonable about it. It was simply a question of brains and the capacity for unlimited work.
She braced herself for the celebration of Manning’s promotion, which Brown had planned at his country place on Long Island.
More than a hundred people had been invited to spend the week-end as his guests. It was the first social function which she had consented to attend since her union with Manning. It was, in fact, one of the few where it would have been possible for both to be present without question or embarrassment.
Brown’s mother was eighty years old, a fine specimen of the old-school society leader. She worshipped her handsome bachelor son and while she nominally presided over his home, his word was the only law she wished to know. His list of guests she invited without question. She knew that he loved her too tenderly to wound her pride with an invitation which would cause unpleasant comment. Had he done so, she was a woman of too strong a character to have even winced at his mistake.
As a matter of fact the guests Brown had selected were beyond suspicion--artists, men of letters, editors and newspaper owners, their wives, daughters, sisters and cousins. It was quite unnecessary to explain an invitation to Ellen West. She was the most noted woman editor in America.
One little personal attention to her comfort and happiness Brown gave with the utmost care that no one should discover his purpose. He sincerely admired the daring of the young feminist leader, though skeptical of the ultimate outcome of her experiment. Every male materialist and every conservative woman would naturally be a skeptic on such an issue. But Brown was fair. He would give her the benefit of the doubt. In the meantime, he would see to it that she was happy in this first visit to the magnificent estate which would have been her own had she accepted his offer.
He gave his personal attention to the assignment of the rooms to each guest.
“I’ll attend to it myself, mother,” he said lightly. “It will test the capacity of the house this time--more than a hundred, you know.”
“Nonsense, Edwin,” she replied. “We don’t keep a house. We keep a hotel. It will be very strange if we can’t make a hundred people comfortable in seventy-five rooms.”
“Oh, I’ll store them all snugly away, never fear.”
He made out the list and assigned each guest to their rooms with his own hand. The fine suite on the south-east corner with its windows overlooking the Sound both south and east he selected for Ellen West.
“We’ll have to divide all the suites,” he said to the housekeeper.
He gave the large corner room to Ellen and assigned the next room to Manning. He closed the communicating door, locked and bolted it. And just before the guests began to arrive he entered the suite, slipped the bolt, unlocked the door, removed the key and put it in his pocket.
“Bless their dear foolish hearts,” he said; “it would be cruel to separate them on a festival day for her lover!”
Ellen was quick to catch the significance of their assignment.
She heard Manning whistling in the next room and tried the knob on the communicating door. She was absolutely sure it was not locked and yet when it opened at her touch and she walked into Manning’s room she laughed immoderately.
Manning turned with a quick look of surprise and joined in the laugh.
“This is what I call ‘all the comforts of home’!” she cried, “without any of its annoying cares!”
He glanced at the window overlooking the garden, saw the men at work among the flowers and quickly drew the shades.
“Do you suppose the Big Boss did that on purpose?” Manning asked.
“Of course.”
“Thoughtful of him, wasn’t it?”
“Very.”
“Almost too thoughtful, come to think of it.”
“Why?” she inquired protestingly.
“You don’t suppose he’ll be discussing our affairs with his guests, do you?”
“Impossible.”
“Pretty plain announcement that he understands the situation.”
“You don’t suppose, dear boy, that we could fool a man of his knowledge of the world?”
“I’m glad somebody knows it, aren’t you?”
“No. It’s nobody’s business.”
“Still, you can’t live and die absolutely to yourself, now can you?”
She looked at him a minute with searching question.
“Been getting restless in our little world for the past years, my conquering man?”
He flushed and answered quickly:
“You know I haven’t.”
“I’ve sometimes wondered,” she mused.
“You’ve kept your wondering very quiet,” he observed.
“Well, you’ll be the lion here to-night,” she went on briskly. “I’ll have to keep my distance, I suppose, and admire from afar.”
“If you do,” he said impulsively, “I’ll walk right up and kiss you before the crowd.”
Her eyes brightened.
“Would you?”
“Yes. And I’ll do it, too, if you begin any funny business here with me to-night in this mob. I hate crowds anyhow.”
“I’ll be the soul of discretion, never fear,” she answered banteringly.
In spite of the effort to appear at ease during the games of the afternoon they were both conscious of the dramatic situation which Brown’s keen eyes enjoyed.
The instant Ellen appeared on the broad porch she was surrounded by a group of women admirers. Manning followed a half-hour later. She was annoyed at first by his delay. And yet the longer he stayed, the more embarrassing she felt that his appearance would be if they attempted to remain together in such a crowd.
She sighed with relief when Brown introduced him immediately to a lot of pretty girls. Her relief gave way to anger as she threw an occasional glance in the direction of his group.
He had evidently been relieved by Brown’s tact and appeared to be decidedly enjoying himself. She despised herself for such vulgar jealousy only to look again with increasing anger.
He was holding a regular levee. Every pretty girl on the place was pressing forward to greet the lion of the occasion. The thing that particularly annoyed her was that three or four angling match-making mothers were hanging over him after they had dangled the bait of their pretty daughters before his eyes. They were pressing him with invitations to call, for teas, dinners, receptions and theatre parties, of course.
She dropped the discussion which she was holding with two of the directors of the magazine and walked straight into the circle of girls and scheming mothers. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. She had pressed her way through the crowd before she realized her foolish mistake. But it was impossible to retreat.
She extended her hand while she was stammering and making excuses to a fat mother whose plump offspring smiled enticingly.
“May I offer my congratulations also among the first, Mr. Manning?”
His jaw dropped and the perspiration started in tiny beads on his forehead, while his face flushed scarlet.
The fat mother stared and the smile died on the dimpled daughter. There was an accent of authority in her tones that chilled general conversation.
He took her hand mechanically and stammered an incoherent reply. The fat mother nodded a friendly good-bye and the smiling daughter faded away.
“For the love of God,” he groaned under his breath, “get me out of this.”
“You’re enjoying it,” she replied in low tones.
“I’m in hell,” he gasped. “They push and crowd and press on me. Lord, there comes Brown with another dozen; save me, for God’s sake, save me!”
His distress was so genuine, his desire to escape so sincere, her heart smote her for making the scene. At least no one present understood its meaning. She was thankful for that.
She pressed his hand gently and whispered:
“Forgive me, dearest, I couldn’t help it. I’ll not be silly again.”
She had quite regained her composure when Brown appeared with the second bevy of girls.
She searched his face for a trace of malice and found only the smiling mask of the host bent on giving the utmost of himself to his guests.
She nodded a friendly challenge. He caught her subtle meaning, introduced the girls and followed her into the flower garden, where she found a seat in the shadow of a rose trellis.
“You’re not jealous?” he laughed.
“Yes.”
“You needn’t be--there’s not an ounce of brains in the whole crowd.”
“But some remarkably pretty faces.”
“I thought jealousy was forbidden by your creed?”
“It is.”
“You have fallen from grace?”
“I have.”
“You underestimate your powers, dear lady,” he reassured her. “Your man is sweating blood.”
“He’ll survive.”
“I really hated to torture him. But I had to do it.”
“I understand.”
“I tried to make you two silly people happy.”
“You personally arranged that suite?”
“Certainly.”
“No one else knows?”
“Stole the keys myself.”
“It was very sweet of you.”
“Cost me a pang or two, dear lady.”
“You’re bearing up bravely.”
He looked at her seriously.
“What else could I do, but play the rôle of a Brownie godfather to two wilful children? I assure you that your happiness is a thing I deeply desire.”
“Did you promote my man because you once made love to me?”
“Honestly, no.”
“I had hoped it might be so.”
“Why?”
“Just a little jealous of my sweetheart’s big success, I think.”
“Impossible. You don’t do yourself justice.”
“It’s true. You forget that when a woman demands her position of equality with man she may become his rival.”
“That is a fact, isn’t it?” he mused.
“I’m ashamed of it, but it’s true.”
He stooped and picked a pebble from the walkway. His eyes were bent on the ground while he spoke.
“You are happy?”
“As happy as any woman can be.”
He watched her narrowly out of the corners of his clear steel eyes.
“All right. I just want you to always remember that the best wish of my heart is for your real happiness even if I have to find it in giving you to my rival.”
Ellen placed her hand on his.
“You’re a good fellow, Edwin,” she responded earnestly. “I’ll not forget that little speech----”
She paused at the sound of a footstep, lifted her eyes and saw Manning stare angrily at the scene.
Brown rose without embarrassment and waved to him.
“Take my seat, my boy, and have a quiet hour here removed from the mob. I was just having a heart-to-heart talk to your sweetheart about you.”
“Thanks,” Manning answered.
The tones in which his employer had spoken were so honest, so straightforward, so reassuring, he cast out instantly his suspicions. But he had his own idea about Ellen’s part in the incident.
He fixed her with a searching gaze.
“You took Brown out here deliberately to flirt with him?”
His jealousy made her unreasonably happy.
“Why shouldn’t I, if I felt the impulse?”
“You’re free, of course.”
“And I expect to remain free.”
“So do I.”
She glared at him.
“Mind you don’t go too far, sir!”
“How could I help them crowding around me?”
“I didn’t say you could.”
“You imply as much!”
“I didn’t say you could help their crowding around you, but I must say you took the assault quite philosophically.”
“What would you have me do?”
“You didn’t have to make calf eyes at the poor young things.”
“I didn’t make calf eyes at ’em!”
“I saw you.”
“It’s not true and you know it.”
“And you know that I didn’t lure Brown out here to flirt with him.”
“You have a perfect right to flirt as much as you please, I suppose.”
“And you have a perfect right to make calf eyes at pretty girls if you feel the impulse.”
“Why quarrel, then?”
“I’m not; you picked this quarrel.”
“Well of all the cheek! I was sitting here in the most innocent little chat with my host----”
“With one hand pressing his.”
“You were watching us?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you saw it----”
“I’m glad you saw me making calf eyes at those girls----”
“You admit it, then?”
“For the sake of hurting you, yes!”
She rose with a movement of anger and he seized her hand.
“Don’t go, dear; I’m sorry, and I’m miserable.”
She sat down again and smiled.
“Are you?”
“Utterly miserable.”
“I’m glad.”
“Let’s not quarrel!”
“Shall we kiss and make up?” she asked archly.
He pressed her hand and bent toward her lips, but stopped short at the sight of Field. He was rapidly approaching the little bower evidently looking for them.
“Confound him!” Manning hissed. “There’s another old sweetheart coming to try his luck again!”
“Don’t be foolish, boy,” she whispered, returning the pressure of his hand.
Field was under the trellis, bowing gracefully.
“Congratulations to you both, my children!” he heartily called from the doorway. “I’m glad to find you together.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Manning responded.
“No, no, keep your seat, boy. You’re the king here to-day. You know that I was in love with Ellen. She couldn’t see me with a spyglass. I’m glad you won. You’re a real man. You don’t know how hard hit I was.”
Ellen frowned.
“Honest injun; I’ve been away for a year, haven’t I?”
“Yes; you went to Japan to write a book.”
“My excuse, children. I ran away because I was crossed in love.”
Manning and Ellen joined in a laugh.
“And all the sympathy I get is a sneer from the happy couple who are camping on the grave of my affections.”
Field rattled on for half an hour keeping up the pretense of his crushed heart until Manning grew tired of it. Through his banter he felt the keen cold nose of the hunter searching for game. It made him furious to think that this polished materialist was perhaps the only man next to Brown who knew the truth of his relations to Ellen and that he was deliberately trying to take advantage of it now to air his stale wit.
He was growing angrier and more miserable by the minute. Ellen felt it instinctively and said finally:
“Do run along, Randy, I’m tired of your twaddle. I’ve got something important to say to my man.”
“Well, I must say,” Field muttered, “that in the art of gentle hinting you’re a past mistress, Ellen. But I forgive you. Bye-bye, children. And listen, fair leader of woman, keep your eye on the anglers at the ball to-night. They’ll try to land him under your very nose!”
“Go away, Randy!” Ellen commanded.
“I’ve taken the hint; I go; see you both later.”
“Let’s go home!” Ellen exclaimed.
“I wish we could,” he responded.
“Pack your grip; I’ll follow in an hour.”
He shook his head.
“It’s impossible.”
“The thing’s given in my honor. Brown would never forgive such an insult.”
“No.”
“We’ve got to stick it out,” he concluded gloomily.
“What?”
“Promise me one thing, then,” she begged.
“Cut as much of that idiotic dancing as you can.”
“I’ll cut it all out.”
“You can’t.”
“I suppose not. Confound it, why did I ever agree to come anyhow.”
“And why did I?”
“I’ll hurry back now and find Brown for some more grinning, and bowing and polite lying.”
“Yes, go; we’ve been here too long.”
He left her brooding in moody silence and they met but a moment in their suite before dinner.
She slipped her arms around his neck and gave way to the first tears she had shed since their union.
He soothed her in silence, stroking the brown hair tenderly.
“I’m miserable, dear love-man!” she sighed.
“So am I, my love-woman! We’ll cut this sort of thing out of our life, won’t we?”
“We will.”
The ball was the climax of her misery. There was no such thing as escape for Manning. The pretty girls overwhelmed him and their mothers added tenfold to his troubles.
Ellen watched the rush to ensnare him with impotent rage. Twice she left the ballroom in sheer disgust and went to her own room determined to go to bed and try to sleep. Each time she returned to the scene of her humiliation, drawn by an irresistible spell.
The attack on Manning was continuous. They fired in platoons and single-handed. They outnumbered him and surrounded him if he dared try to escape. It was past twelve o’clock and he had ceased to struggle. He was the most accomplished and graceful dancer in the room. Ellen was surprised and hurt to learn it. She didn’t dance. She didn’t care to waste her time. She envied the giggling, pretty ones to-night. They smiled unutterable things into the face of her man with an audacity that was disgusting. How could women be so shameless in their bid for a man!
As they swept by her in the whirl of a waltz she caught Manning answering his partner with a smile of more gaiety than conventional politeness required. She was an unusually beautiful girl of twenty-one--willowy, graceful, intelligent--with the same eyes and hair as her own.
Unable to endure the scene another moment she left the place abruptly, went to her room, undressed and went to bed.
Before throwing the switch of the electric light she deliberately bolted the door communicating with Manning’s room. An hour later she lay with wide-staring eyes reviewing the maze of her tangled life.
She heard his gentle rap on the door and he softly tried the knob. Half an hour later he knocked again. She didn’t wish to see him. Through the long hours of the night she tossed wide-awake and miserable.