Part 14 (2/2)
In my dream Lillie was in front of me, the bit of wall-flower in her hands, and gaspingly she cried out that something should be done.
”It can never be made clean, the world we women live in. But there should never be such worlds. Good women pretend they do not know.
They do not want to know!”
”But, Lillie”--I tried to hold her twisting, writhing hands. ”There is much that has been done. Some women do know, and homes and inst.i.tutions and societies--”
”Homes and inst.i.tutions and societies!” She drew her hands away in scornful gesture. ”They are poultice and plaster things. They are for surface sores, and the trouble is in the blood. To cure, to cleanse, undo the evil of our world is not in human power. It's the root of the tree that must be killed. You can cut off its top for a thousand years and it will come back again. Women have got to go deeper than that and make men know that they'll be d.a.m.ned the same as we if they sin the same as we do.”
She was slipping from me and I tried to hold her back. ”Tell me what women must do! Tell me where they fail!” In terror I caught her hands. ”Do not go until you tell me--”
In misty grayness she was vanis.h.i.+ng. ”When women make their sons know there is no less of sin and shame in sinful, shameful lives for them than for their sisters our worlds will pa.s.s away. You've got to stop the evil at the source. Men don't do what women won't stand for. Tell women that--”
She was gone and, waking, I found I was sitting up in bed, my hands outstretched.
I had a note from Selwyn to-day telling me the Swinks had come and are at the Melbourne. Harrie is not well.
Kitty telephoned me late yesterday afternoon that Billie had an engagement for a club dinner of some sort, and she had appendicitis, or something that felt like it, and wouldn't I please come up and have supper with her in her sitting-room. There was something she wanted to talk to me about.
Kitty has a remarkable voice. It is capable of every variation of appeal. I went. Mrs. Crimm came in to stay with Mrs. Mundy.
The appendicitis possibility was not disturbing, and in a very lovely pink velvet negligee, with cap and slippers and stockings to match, Kitty was waiting for me. She is peculiarly skilful in the settings she arranges for her pretty self, and as I looked at her they seemed far-away things, the world of Scarborough Square, with its daily struggle for daily bread, and the world of Lillie Pierce, with its evil and polluting life, and the world of the little cas.h.i.+er-girl with its temptations and denials. I tried to put them from me. The evening was to be Kitty's. She took her luxuries as the birds of the air take light and suns.h.i.+ne. Unearned, they seemed a right.
She did not like the dress I had on. It's a perfectly good dress.
”I'll certainly be glad when you stop wearing black. It's too severe for you; that is, black crepe de chine is. You're too tall and slender for it, though it gives you a certain distinction. Did Selwyn send you those violets?”
”He did. Where's your pain? What did the doctor say was the matter?”
”I telephoned him not to come. I haven't got any pain. It's gone. I just wanted you by myself.” Kitty settled herself more comfortably in her cus.h.i.+on-filled chair and stretched her feet on the stool in front of her. ”Why didn't you come to Grace Peterson's luncheon yesterday?”
”I had something else more important to do. Grace knew I wasn't coming when she asked me. Society and Scarborough Square can't be served at the same time.” I smiled. ”During the days of apprentices.h.i.+p only a half-hour is allowed for lunch. Did you have a good time?”
”Of course I didn't. Who does with an anxious hostess? One of the guests was an out-of-town person who used to know you well. She wanted to hear all about you and everybody told her something different. All that's necessary is to mention your name and--”
”The play's begun. To be an inexhaustible subject of chatter is to serve a purpose in life. I'd prefer a n.o.bler one, still-- Who was my inquiring friend?”
”I've forgotten her name. She was the most miserable-looking woman I ever saw. On any one else her clothes would have been stunning. Don't think she and her husband hit it off very well. There's another lady he finds more entertaining than she is, and she hasn't the nerve to tell him to quit it or go to Ballyhack. Women make me tired!”
”They tire men, also. A woman who accepts insult is hardly apt to be interesting. Tell me about the luncheon. Who was at it?”
”Same old bunch. Grace left out nothing that could be brought in.
Most of the entertaining nowadays is a game of show-down, regular exhibitions of lace and silver and food and flowers and china and gla.s.s, and gorgeous gowns and stupid people. I'm getting sick of them.”
”Why don't you start a new kind? You might have your butler hand a note to each of your guests on arriving, stating that all the things other people had for their tables you had for yours, but only what was necessary would be used. Then you might have a good time. It's difficult to talk down to an excess of anything.”
”Wish I had the nerve to do it!” Kitty again changed her position; fixed more comfortably the pink-lined, embroidered pillows at her back, and looked at me uncertainly. I waited. Presently she leaned toward me.
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