Part 15 (1/2)

She stepped into the hall with all the confidence of one who has fully made up her mind to carry matters with a high hand; but at the telephone she hesitated. Calling him up at such an hour of the morning demanding his attendance on such a fanciful errand--wouldn't he think it odd? No, he would think it the most natural thing in the world for her to be so flighty. Rea.s.sured, she gave the club number and stood waiting, listening to the half-syllables of switched-off voices and the crossing click, click, that was bringing her fate nearer to her. She heard some one coming up the stairs and down the hall toward her. Marrika stood stolid at her elbow.

”Mr. Cressy,” she p.r.o.nounced.

”Yes, yes,” said Flora, with the club clamoring in her left ear.

”He is down-stairs,” said Marrika.

Flora nearly let the receiver fall. Harry here? What a piece of luck!

But here on his own account, at such an hour--how extraordinary!

”h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo,” persisted the club. ”What's wanted?”

”Why, I--” Flora stammered. ”It's a mistake; never mind. I don't want him now.” She hoped that Harry had not heard her as he came in, since it was his informal fas.h.i.+on to await her in the large entrance hall. She didn't want to spoil the chance he had given her of seeming offhand about the ring. But the hall was empty, and as she descended the stairs she amused herself with the fancy that s.h.i.+ma had had a vision, and that she would still have to ring up the club and explain to the attendant that, after all, she wanted Mr. Cressy.

Then from the drawing-room threshold she caught sight of Harry standing in the big bay window of the drawing-room, in the same spot where Kerr had awaited her the afternoon before. Harry was tall and large and freshly colored, and yet he did not fill the room to her as the other man had done. He met her, kissed her, and she turned her head so that his lips met her cheek close beside her ear. She did not positively object to his kissing her on the lips, but her instinct was strong to offer him her cheek. He had sometimes laughed at this, but now he resented it. He insisted on his privilege, and she was pa.s.sive to him, conscious of less love in this than a.s.sertion of possession.

”You are not going to Burlingame, are you?” she asked him with her first breath.

He looked down at her with a flushed and sulky air. ”What difference would that make to you? I am, as it happens, but I suppose you think that's no reason for disturbing you so early.” He was angry, but at what, she wondered, with creeping uneasiness. He held her and caressed her with a morose satisfaction, as if he had to make sure to himself that she was really his, and she permitted it and abetted it with a guile that astonished her.

”What is the matter?” she urged. ”Are things going crookedly at Burlingame?”

”Things are going as crooked as you please, but not at Burlingame. Sit over there,” he said, nodding toward the window-bench; ”I want to talk to you.”

Harry had the air of one about to scold, and certainly Flora thought if anybody was carrying matters with a high hand, it wasn't herself; but she didn't follow his direction. She continued to stand, while he, sitting on the table's edge, drumming the top of his hat, gloomily regarded her.

”Well?” she persisted, troubled by this look of his, and this silence.

”Look here,” he began, ”I have to be away a couple of days and I wish you'd do me a favor.”

Flora's thought flew to the ring. Was he going to ask for it back, to have it reset, as he had promised on the threshold of the goldsmith's shop? Here might be the chance she had hoped for of getting rid of it.

She grasped at it before she had time to waver.

”I wonder if it's the very favor I was going to ask of you.”

But he didn't take it up. He seemed hardly to hear her, as if his mind was too much absorbed with quite another question--a question that the next moment came out flat. ”What was that Kerr doing here yesterday?”

She was taken aback, so far had her apprehension of Harry's jealousy slipped into the background in the last twenty-four hours. But her consciousness that Harry was not behaving well, even for a jealous man, made her take it up all the more lightly.

”Why, he was calling, chatting, taking tea--what anybody else would do from four to six. What in the world gave you the idea that he was doing anything extraordinary?”

”Well,” he said, ”you shouldn't do the sort of thing that makes you talked about.”

”'That makes me talked about'?” It made her pause in front of him.

”Why, yes, it isn't like you. It's never happened before. Look here. I drop into the Bullers' yesterday; find Clara sidled up to the judge; look around for you. 'h.e.l.lo,' I say, 'where's Flora?' 'Oh,' says she, 'Flora's at home amusing Mr. Kerr.' 'Amusing Mr. Kerr!'” he repeated.

”That's a nice thing to hear.”