Part 43 (1/2)
Forbes spoke. ”Sha'n't we stroll back to the club-house? I'm expected there for luncheon.”
”By all means,” said Tait. ”And I want you to meet Mildred again.”
”I'd love to,” said Forbes, absently. He said nothing more, but strode on so rapidly down the steep slope that Tait had to take his arm for support and to hold him back.
”You're visiting at the Enslees', Mrs. Neff tells me,” the old man panted.
”Yes.”
”Excuse my fatherly familiarity, but how can you afford to gad with those wild a.s.ses?”
”I can't.”
”What's her name?” Tait laughed.
”I may be able to tell you later, and I may not.”
”Well, my boy, I don't know who she is, but I bet she isn't worth it--not if she trails with the Enslee pack.”
”Oh, but she is beautiful--she is wonderful.”
”You must be hit d.a.m.ned hard.”
”Am.”
And then, not heeding the connotation, he exclaimed, as Persis emerged from the eclipsing shrubbery:
”There's only one woman can ride like that.”
Tait stared again, and now he made her out. Instantly, with the exultance one feels over a secret some one else lets slip, he cried: ”Oho, my boy, that's the woman who keeps you here! Mrs. Neff hinted at it, but I wouldn't believe it till I had it from you.” His gloating sank again to fatherly solicitude as he pleaded earnestly: ”For G.o.d's sake, boy, don't love her! Of all women don't love Persis Cabot! She's the most heartless of them all.”
Forbes was tempted to ask him how he could accept a reputation as a proof of character, but he was still calm enough to pay Tait's white hair the homage of silence. Tait, feeling the import of his silence, grew uneasy, and demanded:
”Harvey, it's not possible that you love her--actually love her?”
”Is it possible not to?”
”But you've not known her long.”
”No, but I've known her well. Do you know her?”
”Yes, and I knew her mother. Once I thought I loved her mother. But I had less money--when I proposed to her than I have now--Heaven be praised!”
”Heaven be praised?”
”Yes, for she might have married me. Harvey, a certain part of the society here is like a big aquarium. The people are all fish--the men goldfish, the women catfish. Their blood is cold--Lord, how cold! Just look at their eyes! Hard eyes, hard hearts. They despise sincerity; they laugh at honest emotion.”
”But Persis has soft eyes,” Forbes broke in, ”and a warm heart.”
”Has she?” Tait sighed, feeling that the siren had already sung Forbes'
wits away. ”Well, maybe, in the moonlight. But she'll soon freeze. Now, if she had been born poor--”