XIII
THRUST AND PARRY
MY DEAR FLORA--I am going out early and shall not be back to dinner. CLARA.
Flora let the little note fall as if she disliked the touch of it. Shewas relieved to think she would not have to see Clara that day. It washer desire never to see Clara again. If only they could part here andnow! How she wanted to shake the whole thing off her shoulders! Howfoolish not to have gone to Harry when she had first made up her mindto! For why, after all, make him any explanations? Suppose she shouldjust take the ring to him and say: "It gives me the shivers, Harry.Let's take it back and get something else." If he didn't suspect thesapphire already, he would never suspect it from that. The worst hecould do would be to laugh, to tease, to tell her she could not live upto her own romantic notions, since, after all, she had weakened and waswanting the usual thing.
But there had been times when she had thought that he did suspect thesapphire. Well, if he did, giving it back to him would practically begiving it back into public custody in the most decorous manner for aproperly bred young woman. And how beautifully it would extricate herfrom her wretched situation! Logically, there was no fault to be foundwith such a course. It was eminently sane and safe. Yet it stillappeared to her as if she were acting a coward's part. She was neitherfrankly giving the jewel to the authorities with the proper information,nor frankly handing it over to Kerr. But she was trying to slip it backinto the questionable nook from which it had been taken, and she grewhot at the thought of how Kerr would despise her if he knew the cravencourse she was meditating. She seemed to hear him saying, "I hadthought braver things of you."
Of course, that was his way of expecting that she would give him thering. And she felt a sort of rage against him that he should want that,and only that, so very much. Yet she didn't know what else she wantedhim to want. Every time she thought of Kerr she found herself growingunreasonable; and she had to whip up her resolution with the hard factsof the case to prevent herself from drifting over on to his sidecompletely.
But did she really want Harry to rid her of the ring? She would get holdof him first and then she would see what she would do.
She stepped into the hall with all the confidence of one who has fullymade up her mind to carry matters with a high hand; but at the telephoneshe hesitated. Calling him up at such an hour of the morning demandinghis attendance on such a fanciful errand--wouldn't he think it odd? No,he would think it the most natural thing in the world for her to be soflighty. Reassured, she gave the club number and stood waiting,listening to the half-syllables of switched-off voices and the crossingclick, click, that was bringing her fate nearer to her. She heard someone coming up the stairs and down the hall toward her. Marrika stoodstolid at her elbow.
"Mr. Cressy," she pronounced.
"Yes, yes," said Flora, with the club clamoring in her left ear.
"He is down-stairs," said Marrika.
Flora nearly let the receiver fall. Harry here? What a piece of luck!But here on his own account, at such an hour--how extraordinary!
"Hello, hello," persisted the club. "What's wanted?"
"Why, I--" Flora stammered. "It's a mistake; never mind. I don't wanthim now." She hoped that Harry had not heard her as he came in, since itwas his informal fashion to await her in the large entrance hall. Shedidn't want to spoil the chance he had given her of seeming offhandabout the ring. But the hall was empty, and as she descended the stairsshe amused herself with the fancy that Shima had had a vision, and thatshe would still have to ring up the club and explain to the attendantthat, after all, she wanted Mr. Cressy.
Then from the drawing-room threshold she caught sight of Harry standingin the big bay window of the drawing-room, in the same spot where Kerrhad awaited her the afternoon before. Harry was tall and large andfreshly colored, and yet he did not fill the room to her as the otherman had done. He met her, kissed her, and she turned her head so thathis lips met her cheek close beside her ear. She did not positivelyobject to his kissing her on the lips, but her instinct was strong tooffer him her cheek. He had sometimes laughed at this, but now heresented it. He insisted on his privilege, and she was passive to him,conscious of less love in this than assertion of possession.
"You are not going to Burlingame, are you?" she asked him with her firstbreath.
He looked down at her with a flushed and sulky air. "What differencewould that make to you? I am, as it happens, but I suppose you thinkthat's no reason for disturbing you so early." He was angry, but atwhat, she wondered, with creeping uneasiness. He held her and caressedher with a morose satisfaction, as if he had to make sure to himselfthat she was really his, and she permitted it and abetted it with aguile that astonished her.
"What is the matter?" she urged. "Are things going crookedly atBurlingame?"
"Things are going as crooked as you please, but not at Burlingame. Sitover there," he said, nodding toward the window-bench; "I want to talkto you."
Harry had the air of one about to scold, and certainly Flora thought ifanybody was carrying matters with a high hand, it wasn't herself; butshe didn't follow his direction. She continued to stand, while he,sitting on the table's edge, drumming the top of his hat, gloomilyregarded her.
"Well?" she persisted, troubled by this look of his, and this silence.
"Look here," he began, "I have to be away a couple of days and I wishyou'd do me a favor."
Flora's thought flew to the ring. Was he going to ask for it back, tohave it reset, as he had promised on the threshold of the goldsmith'sshop? Here might be the chance she had hoped for of getting rid of it.She grasped at it before she had time to waver.
"I wonder if it's the very favor I was going to ask of you."
But he didn't take it up. He seemed hardly to hear her, as if his mindwas too much absorbed with quite another question--a question that thenext moment came out flat. "What was that Kerr doing here yesterday?"
She was taken aback, so far had her apprehension of Harry's jealousyslipped into the background in the last twenty-four hours. But herconsciousness that Harry was not behaving well, even for a jealous man,made her take it up all the more lightly.
"Why, he was calling, chatting, taking tea--what anybody else would dofrom four to six. What in the world gave you the idea that he was doinganything extraordinary?"
"Well," he said, "you shouldn't do the sort of thing that makes youtalked about."
"'That makes me talked about'?" It made her pause in front of him.
"Why, yes, it isn't like you. It's never happened before. Look here. Idrop into the Bullers' yesterday; find Clara sidled up to the judge;look around for you. 'Hello,' I say, 'where's Flora?' 'Oh,' says she,'Flora's at home amusing Mr. Kerr.' 'Amusing Mr. Kerr!'" he repeated."That's a nice thing to hear."
Flora went red. She walked down the room from him to give her suddenlytumultuous heart time. However little he might guess the real trend ofher interview with Kerr, she couldn't hear him come near it withoutapprehension. She was angry, helplessly angry at Harry that he hadtaken this moment for his stupid jealousy. But she was more angry atClara, since such a speech on Clara's part wasn't carelessness. She hadmeant it to work upon him, and here he stood, like the fine animal thathe was, smoldering with the suspicion of encroachment on his prey.
She tried to laugh him out of it.
"Why, Harry, I never saw you jealous before!"
"It's all very well to say that--and you know I've never made a rowabout the other Johnnies. I knew you didn't care for any of _them_."
Her eyes narrowed and darkened.
"And you take it for granted I care for Mr. Kerr?"
"Oh, no, no!" He pushed his hand through his hair with an irasciblegesture. "But it's plain enough you like him--you women always like afellow that flourishes--but that's not the sort of man I care to seehanging around my girl."
Flora stood leaning on the table, breathing a little hurriedly, feelingrather as if she had been shaken. Ha
rry, standing with his hands in hispockets, looked not unlike the threatening image he had appeared in theback of the goldsmith's shop.
"Of course, the fellow can talk," he admitted, "and he has a manner. ButLord knows where he comes from or who he is. Why, even the Bullers don'tknow."
Flora turned sharply on him. "Who told you that?"
"The judge. He picked him up at the club."
"Well," she kept it up, "some one had to introduce him there."
Harry smiled. "You wouldn't care to bow to some of those club members."
"Harry, do you know how you sound to me?" She was trembling at thedaring of what she was going to say. "You talk as if you knew somethingagainst him."
Her statement seemed to bring him up short. "No, no, I don't," he saidhastily.
She made a little gesture of despair. How was she to count on Harry ifhe was going to behave like this? How trust him when he was shufflingso?
She made one more bold stroke to make him speak out.
"Harry, you _do_ know something about him! I know you have seen himbefore."
"Why, yes, I've seen him before. But that's got nothing to do with it."
He looked surprised that she should seem to accuse him of it, and shewondered if he could have forgotten how he had denied it before.
"And that isn't why you distrust him?"
The devil's tattoo that he beat on his hat stopped.
"I don't distrust him."
"Well, dislike him, then. When was it that you saw him before?"
"Isn't it enough for me to tell you that I don't want _you_ to see him?"
"Oh!" She turned away from him. Every nerve in her was in revolt. Thenhe really wasn't going to tell her anything. He was keeping her out ofit as if she were a child. She had relied on him to return the ring. Shehad counted upon his indifference and good nature. And he was neitherindifferent nor good-natured. All desire of even mentioning the ring tohim left her; and as to giving him her confidence--These hints that hehad thrown out about Kerr--they might be mere jealousy--but he mighthave actual knowledge, knowledge that, with her own fitted to it, wouldmake for him a complete figure. She caught her breath at the thought ofhow near she had come to actually betraying Kerr. Until that moment shehad not realized that through all her waverings her one fixed intentionhad been not to betray him.
Harry had risen and was buttoning his overcoat. "You know you're neverat home if you don't want to be," he said.
She stood misleadingly drooping before him. But though her appearancewas passive enough for the most exacting lover her will had never beenin more vigorous revolt. She knew Harry was taking her weariness foracquiescence, and she let him take it so. She even followed him into thehall, and with a vague idea of further propitiation, nodded away Shimaand opened the door for him herself.
The fog was a chasm of white outside. Harry turned on the brink of it."By the way, where's Clara?"
"Why, do you want to see her? She'll be out all day. She's dining withthe Willie Herricks."
"No, I don't want to see her, but, by the way, she's not dining with theWillie Herricks; she's dining with the Bullers. I heard her make theengagement yesterday."
"Oh, no, Harry, I'm sure you're mistaken."
"Well, it doesn't matter. All I want to know is, why did you show thatring to Clara before it was set?"
She was genuinely aghast. "I didn't," she flashed. "What made you thinkI had?"
He shrugged. "Well, she asked me where we got it. I don't see why womenalways talk those things over." He was looking at her inquiringly.
"Well, I haven't," she said quickly. "Have you?"
He looked out upon the fog. "Told her where we got it, do you mean? No,I just chaffed her. I'd look out, if I were you. She strikes me asdamned curious." He stood a moment on the threshold, looking from Florato the chasm of fog outside, as if he were choosing between two chances."I think I'll take that ring this morning," he said slowly.
The deliberate words came to her with a shock. But in the moment, whileshe looked into Harry's moody face, she realized how impossible to makea scene over what must still be maintained as a trivial matter betwixtthem--the mere resetting of a jewel; what should she do to put him off?She looked up at him, and saw with relief that his face was turned fromher to the fog, as if he had forgotten her. Then, still with avertedhead, as if he addressed the whiteness, or himself,--"No," hedetermined, "I won't. I'll take it when I come back." He pulled himselftogether with an effort, with a smile. "That is," he turned to her, "ifyou're in no great hurry about the setting? Very well, then. In a day ortwo."
He plunged away into the fog. A few rods from the door he disappeared,but she could still hear his footsteps growing thinner, lighter, passingaway in the whiteness.