Part 9 (1/2)
”Not just that, d.i.c.k. There's a sweetness about it, yes. As for morals: we didn't discuss them at all....
”This man said that he supposed some people thought it was smart to drink. That hit me rather on the head. We were, the smartest people in New York, weren't we?”
”Rot!”
”Perhaps. It interested me, though, when I'd gotten over the first shock. He said another thing that interested me; he said that I was the first _good_ white woman he'd ever seen smoke.”
He laughed harshly.
”At least he did you the honor to think you good.”
”Yes,”--still deliberately,--”and it was a novel sensation. It was the first time any man had ever appealed to the commonplace thing in me that we call womanhood. He wasn't preaching. It was a practical matter with him....
”I don't think you'd understand this man, d.i.c.k. He takes little things quite seriously and yet he appears to be laughing at the whole scheme all the time.”
He put his gla.s.s down slowly.
”Do you mean that one of these roughnecks has been making love to you?”
”Oh, by no means. I don't think he even likes me and I want him to!
Why, this morning he was going away, was not even going to work for me, and I had to beg him to stay.
”d.i.c.k, you don't understand! This man is so different from you, from me, from all of us. Rough, yes, but I don't think he'd try to buy a woman. And if he should I'm sure he'd be most frank about it; he wouldn't hide behind words.”
She looked hard at him and though she smiled her words stung him, but before he could break in she went on:
”When I sat here having him talk to me last night I had that dreadful inferior feeling again, felt as though I weren't up to the standard of good women that these roughnecks hold. I can't explain it to you because you wouldn't let yourself understand. I was furious for a time, but he was right, according to his way of thinking.
”That way is going to be my way,”--with growing firmness. ”I'm playing a new game and I must play it according to the rules. I did more than make up my mind to leave the drinks and cigarettes alone. I resolved that I'd try to be worthy in every way of the respect I want these men to have for me!”
”Because this Westerner doesn't approve of the way you have lived?”
”Yes. He knows the rules of the new game.”
”Jane, I'm going to stop this foolishness!” He advanced to her and caught her hands in his. ”I love you, I love you! I'm not going to see you losing your head this way!”
She struggled to withdraw her hands.
”No, I'm going to hold you, going to keep you. I'm--” He drew her to him roughly, but she slipped from the clasp of his arm and backed across the room, her hands still imprisoned in his.
”d.i.c.k!”
It was not her cry which caused him to halt. It was a step outside the door and, standing there, her hands in his, he met the level, amused gaze of Tom Beck.
Jane turned from him and he let her go without attempt to restrain her further.
”Ma'am, the horses are here. Your foreman said to tell you.”
His face lost a measure of its lightness as he stood hat in hand, looking from the man whose face was lined with pa.s.sion to the girl, flushed and a bit breathless.
”Very well.... And thank you. I'll be out soon.”