Part 20 (1/2)
”See here, Bingle, I don't like your tone. It sounds preachy. You don't know anything about life, so you can't understand. That sort of thing is--well, it happens to a good many men and no one thinks much about it. I daresay that half the men you know have had just such an experience. It's part of the game here in New York. The girls understand it. They have no illusions. They know that these men cannot--or will not marry them. So, as you don't know anything about life as it's practised now-a-days, I'd advise you to go slow with your plat.i.tudes.”
”All right, Force,” said Mr. Bingle quietly. ”If that's the way you feel about it, there's no use wasting time over nothing. I can't resist saying, however, that I didn't think it was in you to be so d.a.m.ned cold-blooded.”
”Cold-blooded over what? The Glenn girl? Why, my dear man, that was nearly thirteen years ago. I am sorry that she had to go the way she did, but, good Lord, I can't go through life in sackcloth and ashes because she died--as a lot of people do, every year, you know. Hers was not an uncommon case. There are thousands just like it happening every year. It's the price we all pay, men and women. There's no use being sentimental about a perfectly commonplace--I might even say legitimate--transaction. Agnes Glenn was like the rest of her kind: she had a very sharp pair of eyes open all of the time, you may be quite sure of that. I will say this for her, poor little devil: she was no blackmailer. She got down and out when the time came and she never squealed. That's more than most of 'em do, Bingle. 'Pon my soul, old man, I came here to see you this morning fairly trembling in my boots.
I had an idea it was going to be a hard, nasty business talking it over with you, but--by George, it isn't. Now, we can get down to rock-bottom, Bingle. My plan was to--”
”Just a minute, please,” interrupted Mr. Bingle, quite steadily. ”Did you know that she was going to become a mother?”
”Certainly. You don't suppose I'd be looking for the child if I hadn't known she was to be born, do you? I'd be a nice fool, hiring detectives to unearth some other man's child, wouldn't I?”
”I must agree with you in one particular, Force; you are not finding it as hard as you thought it would be. I've never seen a man change more than you have in the past four minutes. You were shaking like a leaf when you came up here, and now--well, 'pon my soul, you are as brave as a lion. That certainly proves one thing.”
”What's that?”
”That your conscience is clearing.”
”Now, don't get it into your head, Bingle, that I'm not dreadfully sorry for the way that poor girl came to her end. She was really a brick. She deserved something better.”
”Knowing that she was going to bear your child, Force, you have every reason, I am sure, to say that she was a brick. I, too, say that she deserved something better than being the mother of your child. What happened? Did she leave you of her own accord?”
”In a way, yes,” said Mr. Force coolly. ”In the customary way, of course. You see, I was about to be married, Bingle. When I explained the situation to her, she understood. She knew that I couldn't go on leading the sort of life I'd led before--”
”You hesitate, Force. Why couldn't you go on leading the life you'd led before? I should say it was quite as decent at one time as another.”
”By Jove, Single, I hadn't the remotest idea you were so simple. I thought you at least knew SOMETHING about life. You amaze me. You are positively refres.h.i.+ng. Let me ask you, Bingle, would you have gone on leading the old life as--now, man to man, Bingle--would you?”
”Yes,” said Mr. Bingle simply. A queer unexpected little smile flitted across his face--a wry smile, perhaps, but still a sign of humour. ”You see, Force, I love children.”
Mr. Force stared at him without comprehension. What the DEUCE had that to do with it?
”Oh, well, you can't understand, of course. To make it short, she was extremely reasonable. As a matter of fact, when I went up to see her the day after I had told her that I was to be married, hang me if she hadn't cleared out. No scene, no tears, no maledictions--just good, hard sense, Bingle, that's what it was. Not many of them would have been so decent about it. They usually make a bluff or something of the sort--money, you know, regular blackmail. But she didn't. She got out as quietly as a mouse, left no trace behind, no regrets, no complaints.
Just a note saying she understood and wis.h.i.+ng me luck. Rather fine, eh?”
”And you married right after that?”
”Six weeks afterward.”
”And, of course, the present Mrs. Hinman knows that she's got a step-daughter?”
”The present Mrs. Hinman? Step-daughter? Good Lord, Bingle, I didn't know you had that much sarcasm in you. But that delicate remark of yours brings me back to the main issue--the matter I really came over to see you about. Naturally Mrs. Force knows nothing of--of this story I've been telling you. Now, what I want to get at is just this: how can we manage it about Kathleen without causing my wife to suspect? Put your mind to it, Bingle. How am I going to take the child under my wing, so to speak--take her into my home, without--” ”Wait! We'll look at it from another point of view. Suppose this detective of yours had found your child in the slums of New York, a street waif, a beggar--what then? Was it your intention to take her into your home in that case? Wasn't it your idea to provide a home for her in some respectable family, educate her, give her a secret allowance--and let it go at that? Can you honestly say to me, Force, that you intended to adopt her--as you are now thinking of doing?”
”Confound you, Bingle, isn't it only reasonable that I should have wanted to see the child before I made any definite plans for her future?”
”And now that you've seen her, and found her to be an adorable, lovely, even high-bred little creature, you think it's all right to take her into your own home--into her father's home?”
”Don't be hard on me, Bingle. Can't you understand that I've got a father's feelings after all? Can't you credit me with--”
”I'll go back a dozen years, Force, and ask you this question: did you make any effort to find this child and provide for her when she was a tiny baby? Did you do anything toward helping the mother in her time of trouble?”
”I tried to help her, Bingle, before G.o.d I did,” cried Force earnestly.