Steve did not answer.

"I can't bear to think of it. It's like having life-in-death in the very house. Oh, Steve, can't you talk him into going to a sanitarium?

They'd have so many interesting kinds of baths to try!"

"He won't mind your parties, if that is what is bothering you. The only thing he asks is to be left in peace in his room with plenty of detective stories and plenty of medical attention, and he won't know if you dance the roof off. But if you really want to hasten the end send Gay up there with plans for remodelling his room--it will either kill or cure," he laughed.

"I must do something to help me forget and make it easier for him,"

she said, soberly. "I'm going to try a faith healer--not because I believe in them but because I don't want to leave any stone unturned.

I think a new interest would help papa. Would you try adopting a child or my taking up cla.s.sical dancing in deadly earnest?" She was quite sincere and emotionally wrought up as she came up to him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, I'd take up cla.s.sical dancing," he advised.

She gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, it's what I really think would be the best. I will dance on the lawn so papa can watch me."

He gave vent to his father-in-law's favourite expletive, "Gad!" under his breath.

He did not add what was an unpleasant probability: that, having to a.s.sume full responsibility of affairs, there were likely to be astonishing complications. Crashed-down oak trees are quite helpless concerning their enemies, reckoned upon or otherwise, and Steve, who had never taken count of his foes, would be called upon to meet them all single-handed.

CHAPTER XVII

In a jewellery store Trudy Vondeplosshe, wrapped in wine-coloured velours, was coquetting with diamond rings under gla.s.s and trying to affect an air of indifference concerning them. With all her husband's rise in the world he did not see fit to bestow upon his wife any substantial token of his regard. The vague and transitory idea he once entertained of playing off fairy G.o.dfather to her and placing a fortune at her feet had become past history. Now that Gay did run a motor and wear monogrammed silk shirts he saw to it that Trudy had as little as the law allowed. She still continued remaking her dresses and haunting remnant counters, sewing on Gay's work, playing off the same overstrained, underfed Trudy as in the first days at the Graystone apartment. But as it was for a good time she never thought of faltering.

She had decided, however, that it was time now to adopt other and more forceful methods of obtaining the things she craved and felt she had earned. Foremost, as with many women, was a diamond ring. After obtaining this she would turn in her wedding ring for old gold, the price to apply on a platinum circlet studded with brilliants. For months Trudy's eyes had glittered greedily as she observed Gay's clientele with their jewelled bags, rings, brooches, watches, and what not--yet she possessed not a single gem.

She had often enough asked Gay for one, to which he would sneer: "What do you want with a diamond? You know I'm always on the ragged edge of failing!"

"Because you gamble and drink and are a born fool," she protested.

"You could make real money if you would listen to me and keep quiet."

"I can't see what that has to do with your wanting a diamond ring! If I ever make real money you can have one but not when auto tires are as high as they are----"

"And when husbands grow tipsy and drive into ditches and have to be brought home by horses and wagons. Oh, no. But you'll go shopping with Beatrice and pick out her jewellery and tell her jewels have souls and a lot more bunk, and then get a commission as soon as her back is turned! Why don't you get me a diamond instead, and omit the bunk?

I'll take one with a flaw--I'm used to seconds. You must believe me when I say that, because I married you."

Gay no longer feared Trudy; in fact, he felt he had little use for her. She was an obstacle to his making an excellent marriage. Through Trudy and all the rest of the complicated ladder climbing he was now recognized, and real men were extremely busy these days getting the tag ends of war-debris business in shape. It was quite a different situation--he could have had his choice of several widows. Take it all in all, he preferred a matron, his days at playing with debutantes were in the discard. The business of buying and selling antiques and interior decorating had so inflated his one-cylinder brain that he really fancied he needed a mature companionship and understanding.

"I'll buy you a diamond ring, old dear," he said, lightly, "when you have me in a corner, hands up--so set your wits to work and see what you can do about it."

It was over their hurried breakfast that the discussion took place, with Trudy, quite a fright in a tousled boudoir cap and neglige, scuttling about the dining room with the breakfast tray and planning to send out bills, reorder some draperies, and call up her friends until one of them should offer to take her to a fashionable morning musical in the near future. After which she would go down town and make good at her star act--window wishing.

"You make me so tired I wonder why I don't clear out," she retorted.

"You think I'm afraid to buy a diamond ring and charge it to you?

Watch me!"

"Just try it and see what will happen."

"I will, kind sir." Dropping him a curtsy, Trudy repaired to do the dishes and swiggle an oil mop about the floor briefly. Then she burnt some scented powder and pulled down the window shades. This const.i.tuted getting the establishment in order, the slavey having gone tootling off on a party some days before.

Trudy did not refer to the breakfast-table discussion before she left the apartment. She was dangerously sweet, and even went into Gay's room, where he was donning his gray-velvet studio blouse for the morning's labours. She told him she was quite sure of securing a fairly good-sized order for some window shades. Gay did not think it necessary to answer. He did not glance at her; instead he yawned and sprinkled toilet water profusely on his pink lawn handkerchief.

After a moment's hesitation she went her own way. When she had lingered about the jewellery counter like a wilful yet not quite wicked child--peering down at the wonderful, enchanting things which mocked her empty purse; recalling Gay's first flush of romance and devotion; her own clever, untiring methods of pushing him into the front ranks; Mary and Mary's little secret, so unsafe in Trudy's keeping; Beatrice, who did not know quite how many rings she possessed; the whole maddening and really uninteresting tangle--she wondered if she could force Gay to buy her a ring. Should she boldly order such-and-such a stone and pick out a setting and present him with the bill? Why she hesitated she did not know; she was like all her wilful sisters who gaze and sigh, pity themselves, and then steal away to Oriental shops to appease the hunger by a near-silver ring with a bulging near-precious stone set in Hoboken style.

This Trudy did not do. For some reason or other she let her errands go by and took a car to Mary's office, stopping at the corner to buy her a flower. Instinctively one connected Mary and flowers as one a.s.sociated Beatrice and jewellery.

She found Mary had gone into the old office building to see about something and that Steve, who was always as restless as a polar bear when forced into a tete-a-tete with Trudy, was alone in his office. He was obliged to ask her to sit down and wait for Mary. Trudy peered curiously about the rooms. She had never lost that rare sense of triumph--returning as a fine lady to the very place where she had once worked for fifteen per. Smiling graciously at former a.s.sociates she imagined that she created as much excitement as Beatrice's visits themselves.

"It seems so good to come back here," she began without mercy.

Steve had to lay aside his work and wonder why Miss Lunk ever let this creature into his private domain. He would see that it did not happen twice.

"Ah--I suppose," he knew he answered.

"You are such a busy man; you don't know how I admire you." Trudy tried fresh tactics.

"Um--have you seen the morning papers?"

"Thank you but Gay read them to me at breakfast.... You never come to our little home, do you? Too busy, I presume. Or are you one of those who can forgive everyone but the interior decorator?" This with an arch expression and a slight twinkle of the blue eyes--it could not quite be called a wink.

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Vondeplosshe. I leave such things to Beatrice."

"Oh, I understand." Trudy took her cue quickly. "It is out of your province. You can't do big, gigantic things if you bother with doll-house notions. Now I really prefer--oh, far prefer--men like yourself, who----"

Steve started the electric fan whirring.

"Don't you ever long for camping trips or long horseback rides--something away from the everlasting fuss and feathers? I do. Would you believe it?" she fibbed glibly.

Had Steve been seventy-five he might have believed her. But he merely nodded and said that if there was a draft from the fan she could sit outside.

Piqued, Trudy turned to Mary Faithful.

"Mary is a wonderful girl, isn't she? Of course you have a Gorgeous Girl, too--but she is for playtime. I should think it would mean a great deal to have Mary for your chief confidante--she is so good, and yet human and----"

Steve stood up abruptly and wondered why no kind friend saw fit to enter at this moment. He would have really welcomed Trudy's husband.

He looked at Trudy briefly, it did not take Steve long these days to look at Gorgeous Girls and Gorgeous Girl seconds and realize the whole story of their purpose and struggle--things, to have more gayly coloured or delicate coloured, gold, silver, velvet, carved, perfumed or whatever-the-mode-dictated things, flaunting these priceless sticks and stones in each other's faces with pretended friendship.

He did not answer this last lead at conversation, but, not discouraged, Trudy went on down the list of her resources.

"How is dear old Mr. Constantine?"

"The same." Steve thanked fortune his father-in-law was paralyzed and could furnish a neutral topic of debate.

"Poor dear. So hard for Bea, too. She says she will not do much this season. She feels if--if it should not be much longer, you understand"--a lowered tone of voice and a sigh--"that she wants to have nothing on her conscience. Still, a sick room is wearing, but of course love makes any task easy."

Steve suppressed a smile. It was surprising how well this funny little person managed to ape the jargon and chatter of Bea's set as well as their mode of appearance. She did it mightily well, everything considered, and when she proceeded to offer to go and sit with the old dear or bring her game board and play with him Steve released a broad grin as he pictured Constantine in his helpless captive state welcoming Trudy as an entertainer about as much as he would have begged for a tete-a-tete with a lady major bent on conquest.