Part 16 (1/2)
”Oh, I can stand their opinions,” he said; ”I only meet the yellow sort occasionally; I don't herd with them.”
”I do, thank you.”
”How do you like them? What is your opinion of the yellow set? Here they sit all about you--the Phoenix Mottlys, Mrs. Delmour-Carnes yonder, the Draymores, the Orchils, the Vendenning lady, the Lawns of Westlawn--” he paused, then deliberately--”and the 'Jack' Ruthvens. I forgot, Alixe, that you are now perfectly equipped to carry aloft the golden hod.”
”Go on,” she said, drawing a deep breath, but the fixed smile never altered.
”No,” he said; ”I can't talk. I thought I could, but I can't. Take that boy away from Mrs. Fane as soon as you can.”
”I can't yet. You must go on. I ask your aid to carry this thing through. I--I am afraid of their ridicule. Could you try to help me a little?”
”If you put it that way, of course.” And, after a silence, ”What am I to say? What in G.o.d's name shall I say to you, Alixe?”
”Anything bitter--as long as you control your voice and features. Try to smile at me when you speak, Philip.”
”All right. I have no reason to be bitter, anyway,” he said; ”and every reason to be otherwise.”
”That is not true. You tell me that I have ruined your career in the army. I did not know I was doing it. Can you believe me?”
And, as he made no response: ”I did not dream you would have to resign.
Do you believe me?”
”There is no choice,” he said coldly. ”Drop the subject!”
”That is brutal. I never thought--” She forced a smile and drew her gla.s.s toward her. The straw-tinted wine slopped over and frothed on the white skin of her arm.
”Well,” she breathed, ”this ghastly dinner is nearly ended.”
He nodded pleasantly.
”And--Phil?”--a bit tremulous.
”What?”
”Was it all my fault? I mean in the beginning? I've wanted to ask you that--to know your view of it. Was it?”
”No. It was mine, most of it.”
”Not all--not half! We did not know how; that is the wretched explanation of it all.”
”And we could never have learned; that's the rest of the answer. But the fault is not there.”
”I know; 'better to bear the ills we have.'”
”Yes; more respectable to bear them. Let us drop this in decency's name, Alixe!”
After a silence, she began: ”One more thing--I must know it; and I am going to ask you--if I may. Shall I?”
He smiled cordially, and she laughed as though confiding a delightful bit of news to him: